Chapter 4 - The Iron BirdThe private airstrip was shrouded in sea fog that rolled in thick from the bay, swallowing the runway lights until they glowed like amber embers in a soup.
A sleek, black Gulfstream jet sat idling on the tarmac, its turbine engines whining with a low, bone-deep vibration that rattled the fillings in Nia's teeth. Armed men in black tactical gear stood at the base of the boarding stairs, their rifles pointed downward, scanning the perimeter with cold professionalism.
As Jyn’s battered Honda Civic skidded to a halt near the wing, the tactical team immediately lowered their weapons, recognizing their boss.
"Secure the perimeter," Jyn ordered the moment he stepped out into the rain, slamming the car door. He opened the back door for Nia, extending a leather-gloved hand to help her out.
Nia stepped onto the tarmac, the wind whipping her hair across her face. Little Leo stirred, letting out a soft, sleepy yawn before snuggling deeper into the baby carrier.
Marcus stumbled out of the passenger side, falling to his knees and kissing the wet asphalt. "I'm touching grass. Beautiful, solid, unexploding grass. I'm never leaving my apartment again."
"Marcus," Jyn said, turning to the trembling actuary. "Get back in the car. Drive it into the ocean. There is a retainer waiting in Swiss accounts for your retirement."
Marcus blinked, looked at the car, looked at the jet, and then stood up with sudden, heroic resolve. "You know what? I think I'm going to take up skydiving after this. Hand me those keys."
Nia turned to Jyn as the loading ramp hissed downward. "What about Grandma Gigi? And Zoe?"
"My men are already at their apartments," Jyn said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "They are being relocated to a safehouse in Zurich within the hour. No one touches my family."
Nia froze at the word my. She wanted to argue, to remind him that she was an independent graphic designer who made her own sourdough bread, not a hostage bride in a mafia syndicate drama. But looking at the burning determination in his eyes—and remembering the five SUVs back home—she swallowed her pride and started up the stairs.
Inside, the jet was a palace of polished mahogany, cream leather seats, and champagne buckets. It looked nothing like the frantic, muddy chaos they had just escaped.
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Thor bounded up the ramp behind them, shaking water all over the expensive wool carpeting before curling his massive body across the aisle like a furry roadblock.
Jyn closed the cabin door, sealing out the wind, the rain, and the Chong family.
