Kaya shook her head, picking her tablet up off the sofa. She had survived warlords, assassins, and federal agents. But forcing her spoiled, overpowered husband to do his college homework?
That was going to be the hardest battle of the day.
Veer grumbled loudly as he dragged the heavy wooden chair out from the kitchen table. He dropped into it with an exaggerated, dramatic sigh, staring down at the blank lined paper and the pen Kaya had placed in front of him as if they were instruments of torture.
He picked up the pen, his massive, calloused hand dwarfing the delicate plastic, and reluctantly began to write.
But then, a sound echoed from outside.
It was far away—miles up in the atmosphere—but to his hyper-sensitive, apex-predator ears, the sound was loud and distinct. It was the deep, vibrating roar of a commercial airplane cutting through the high-altitude winds.
