Silence descended, broken only by the hiss of rain on hot metal and the groaning of the crippled aircraft.
I blinked through the blood dripping from a cut on my forehead. Beside me, Maren was already unbuckling her seatbelt. She kicked her jammed door open, crawling out into the rain.
I stumbled out after her, pulling my weapon. We ran to the side of the jet. The emergency door blew open, deployed by a panicked flight attendant.
I hauled myself up the inflatable slide, Maren right behind me.
The interior of the plane was chaotic. Grant was slumped in a leather chair, clutching his chest, the stress of the crash exacerbating his illness. Two private security guards drew their weapons, but I fired a warning shot into the opulent mahogany ceiling.
“Drop them!” I screamed. The guards, realizing their billionaire boss couldn’t pay them if they were dead, slowly lowered their guns.
