Page 12 of Controlled Drift
“You’re clear once we’re out,” Kael said.“Draw the eyes.”
Ethan’s mouth curved slightly.“Already planned on it.”
He, Tane, and Victor pulled on the Emergency Breathing Apparatus Ethan kept on board for emergencies.It allowed for around ten to fifteen minutes of air to assist if things go absolutely pear-shaped.
Ethan lifted one hand from the controls and gave a sharp, deliberate signal over his shoulder.Then he reached down and flicked the switch to release the hatch.
The door blew open against the pressure with a violent shudder, the aircraft bucking as the air rushed in, roaring and chaotic.Ethan compensated instantly—hands steady, feet adjusting, keeping the nose level as turbulence clawed at the fuselage.
Cold slammed into the cabin.Wind tore at gear and clothing, turning the interior into controlled chaos.
Kael was already there, clipped in, eyes on Ethan.
Ethan gave a single nod.
One by one, Black Tide stepped into nothing.
They didn’t hesitate.They didn’t look back.Bodies vanished cleanly into the dark, swallowed by night and altitude, the jet growing lighter and more responsive with every exit.
Ethan held the plane steady through it all, compensating for each shift in weight, each violent surge of air.
When the last man was gone, Tane moved fast.
He slammed the hatch closed and sealed it, the roar cutting off abruptly, replaced by the muted thrum of engines and the hiss of oxygen.
He rolled the aircraft and punched the throttle.
The jet leapt.
Tane braced himself against the bulkhead, eyes on the readouts.“You’re gonna want to warn me before you do whatever the hell that is.”
Ethan didn’t answer, as both men strapped themselves into seats.
Acceleration slammed Victor and Tane back against their chairs as Ethan pitched them into a sharp, aggressive climb—too steep, too fast, the kind of maneuver that made air traffic controllers swear, and pilots stare in disbelief.
“What the fuck, Rhodes!”Tane barked, fingers digging into the seat's armrests.“You trying to rip the wings off?”
Victor let out a sharp laugh that was half curse, half admiration.“Jesus Christ—look at that angle.”
“Eyes are now on us,” Ethan said calmly, already adjusting.“Every eye.”
The aircraft cut through controlled airspace like it didn’t belong to the rules governing it, climbing hard and clean before leveling abruptly.The maneuver was deliberate, showy, impossible to ignore.
Exactly what he needed.
He throttled back just enough to avoid a stall, then dove—fast and precise—bringing them screaming back toward the runway from an angle no sane pilot would choose.
Tane swore again.“I swear to God, I’m never flying with you again.”
Victor snorted.“Hell, I'll fly with you any time.”
Ethan ignored them, hands steady, eyes locked on the strip ahead.He flared late, braked hard, and brought the jet to a brutal, perfect stop in the darkest stretch of tarmac beside the runway—right where their own parked aircraft sat waiting, shadowed and forgotten.
Silence slammed into the cabin.
Then chaos.
Doors on the far side of the airfield burst open.Men spilled out, weapons already drawn, moving fast and aggressive.An SUV roared up, brakes screaming as it skidded to a stop nearby.Another vehicle followed, disgorging more bodies, more guns.
