The Sikorsky's cabin was a cocoon of muted luxury — dark leather seats stitched with subtle contrast, brushed metal fittings gleaming faintly under the overhead lights.
Liam eased into his seat by the window, resting an elbow lightly on the armrest. Mason and Nick took the seats opposite, their postures straight, their eyes sweeping the tarmac even though they were already airborne in spirit.
The faint thrum of the rotors overhead deepened as Captain Harris' voice came through the intercom.
"Mr. Liam, we're clear for takeoff."
"Go ahead," Liam replied, his voice calm but edged with anticipation.
The low hum shifted into a powerful vibration that ran through the cabin floor as the Sikorsky lifted off.
Outside, the rooftop helipad fell away, replaced by the sprawling patchwork of Los Angeles glinting in the morning sun. The helicopter banked gracefully, the city unfolding beneath them like a map brought to life.
