34. You Go, I Go

She was on him like a whirlwind—her hands turned into claws, raking at his eyes. He stumbled backward, momentarily uncoordinated as he squeezed his eyes shut. She slammed him hard into the locked door of the cockpit.

Then he lunged at her again, the knife flashing through the air toward her face. She threw herself to the floor of the aisle and grabbed for his boot. Her hand hooked on the back of his left shoe—she pulled as hard as she could.

On the floor, she saw the cuff, its red lights blinking faster. She had to get rid of it, now.

He was too heavy for her to throw him completely off balance, but it made him stumble, forced him to stop his knife attack for a split second in order to steady himself.

He suddenly held up his hands.

"Syd, stop!"he shouted. "Stop!"

Behind her, Winter hesitated—but Sydney just narrowed her eyes at him and held her stance. Her lungs were hurting now.

Tems took a step toward her, his hands still up. "Syd, please," he said. "You don't understand the entire story."

He was playing his mind games with her again. She watched him carefully, bracing herself for the sudden move she knew he would make. Her eyes darted to the floor of the plane. The cuff was about to go off.

Then he lunged for her.

Sydney ducked down—Winter jerked back. As Tems attacked them again, Sydney's eyes darted to the door on the side of the plane, its handle marked with a bold red warning.

DO NOT PULL.

She threw herself at the door, grabbed the handle, and pulled it up with every ounce of strength she had.

"Hold on!" she shouted to Winter.

An alarm blared to life all around them, drowning them in sound.

The door flew open.

Their world suddenly turned into a roaring maelstrom—a vacuum of blistering wind from outside slammed into Sydney. The cuff on the floor flew down the aisle.

Her hands clutched the armrest of the nearest seat. Beside her, the gaping door of the plane revealed the runway still zooming by beneath the plane's wheels.

The jet veered sharply to one side.

The flashing cuff flew out of the open hatch.

Tems lost his balance to the strength of the wind. He stumbled backward toward the opening, then twisted around and fell.

Sydney felt a hand close hard around her ankle—then her entire body tugged toward the gaping entrance. Tems had grabbed her leg and was taking her out with him.

Outside the plane came a boom—the cuff must have exploded.

The force of it made the plane tilt. The move threw off Tems's grip on Sydney—both of them tumbled across the floor.

She thought she heard Winter shouting her name, but she couldn't look up. All she could do was kick out at Tems, stomping her boot hard against the floor in an attempt to loosen his grip.

For a second, he met her gaze—and in it, she saw a look not of rage or revenge, but of naked fear.

He was afraid of dying, too.

"Get the hell off me," she growled through her teeth, then kicked for his face.

This time, her boot connected perfectly with his jaw. He shuddered—she felt his grip slip and his body go slack.

She didn't know initially why she did it. Perhaps it was years of training to hone her instincts to obey an agent's mantras—perhaps it was the ingrained determination to complete the mission she'd been sent here to do. But as Tems's limp body tumbled toward the plane's open door and the speeding tarmac beyond it, Sydney released her grip on the back of the chair and reached for his falling figure.

"Sydney!"

She heard Winter's voice distinctly this time. But everything around her seemed to move slowly now as she lunged for Tems's sleeve and seized the edge of it in her hand.

His weight immediately hit her, yanking her down with him. Her boots hit the wall of the plane next to the door. She threw herself backward until she was flat against the wall, then hung on to his arm with all her might.

She was still slipping.

But she hadn't come all this way to die for Tems, to give her life for a traitor.

Her boots were slipping—she wasn't going to make it if she kept hanging on to Tems. The rope in her mind pulled so tightly that she wanted to scream.

No regrets.

Then she felt Winter's familiar arms lock around her body. Her slip halted abruptly. When she opened her eyes and glanced over, she saw Winter hanging on to her with clenched teeth, a look of fiery determination gleaming in his eyes.

"Close the goddamn door!" he yelled.

She pulled with him—

—until they all collapsed against the floor right behind the first row of seats. Sydney glanced back at the door, which was pressed flat against the side of the plane. She wedged one of her boots underneath the handle, then the other, squeezed her eyes shut, then pushed with her legs as hard as she could.

The door creaked against the pressure of the roaring wind. She gave it one last shove.

The door suddenly went up high enough for the wind to catch its other side.

With a slam, it flew shut, its metal handle clanking so loud against the plane's wall that Sydney thought it might break off altogether. She stumbled away from the seats long enough to throw herself against the door, then pumped the handle to seal it into place.

The sudden lack of roaring wind sounded overwhelming in the space. She collapsed against the floor, gasping. Her head swam, and she was only vaguely aware of the sound of the alarm still blaring.

Eventually, she realized the pilot's voice was on the intercom.

"Is everyone alive? Is everyone alive?" he was saying over and over again.

Sydney's mouth felt too dry to respond. All she could do was look over to where Winter was pressed against the jet floor, his gaze going between her and Tems's unconscious form. At the rear of the plane, Dameon finally stirred and hurried up the aisle toward them.

At last, Sydney found her voice. "We're all here," she shouted. "Stop the plane. Stop the plane!"

She could feel the plane steadying to a stop. Through the windows, the lights of fire engines and police cars flashed along either side of the plane, as if guiding it.

Her eyes went back to Winter. He looked pale, and blood stained his arm and face. But he was alive, and right now, that mattered more to Sydney than anything in the world.

"Are you okay?" he murmured.

She held his gaze for a moment. Then she closed her eyes and rested her head against her arm. Her hand stretched out for his, and in the darkness, she felt him take it.

"I will be," she whispered.