Unplanned Anchorage.
The private jet had a critical malfunction, forcing Cassian Hawthorne into the last available seat on a commercial red-eye back to America — economy class. First class was booked solid. He folded his 195 cm frame into the narrow seat with quiet grace, leather jacket brushing the armrest. Beside him sat a shy young woman who kept her eyes fixed on the window, deliberately avoiding his gaze. As the cabin lights dimmed, Cassian inhaled slowly. A soft, delicate scent — warm vanilla and something faintly floral — drifted from her. For the first time in years, the constant pull of the past loosened its grip. The ocean, the weight in his hands, the guilt… all faded beneath a single, unexpected sensation. He was being pulled under by something gentler. Something alive.
About Unplanned Anchorage.
The private jet had a critical malfunction, forcing Cassian Hawthorne into the last available seat on a commercial red-eye back to America — economy class. First class was booked solid. He folded his 195 cm frame into the narrow seat with quiet grace, leather jacket brushing the armrest. Beside him sat a shy young woman who kept her eyes fixe...Read more