Runaways

Aiko: "Now what did you do, baby?"

Emi: "Now what do we do, baby?"

Aiko: "You screwed us both, baby."

Emi: "You can save us both, maybe?"

Aiko: "Shouldda let the cards roll, like dominoes. Let them take their due like they're caesar"

Emi: "Oh, not on me, baby.

Remember we, baby?

Remember us, baby

The world is ours, baby.

The globe is ours, baby.

Don't leave me be, baby."

Aoki: "But then I do, baby.

I love you, oh, baby.

And plus, you got my own baby,

Can't just walk away, baby."

Emi: "You say oh what, baby?"

Aiko: "Said pack your bags, baby.

We 'bout to fly, baby.

To safer zones, baby.

Away from this, craze here"

Emi: "Let's touch and go, baby."

Aoki: "Just like old times, baby..."

---

With that, they pack a few Glocks, a pack of weed cigarettes, and hit the road. Deep in winter, rubber on ice, driving it like he stole it—ten minutes flat to the airport. A record. They launch into the private wing with a screech, straight out of a James Bond film.

Final eye contact. Adjust Gucci glasses. Step out in style like models on a runway. Briskly steps up the Gulfstream stairs. A final glance out the window as the jet screams down the runway. Fighter jets scramble. The chase is on.

---

Ryan in the cockpit, eyes locked on a red dot on the dashboard. Headed for international waters. Pilots drip a thin sweat as they push the metal tube to its limits. Then—

A flash.

An F-35 cuts right in front of them like a car swerving in traffic.

"The fuck is up with the sky-rage?" Aoki barks at the fighter jet, as if the pilot could hear him.

Meanwhile, the pilots feign a miscommunication, buying time before the inevitable—before the jets hit the red button and light them up, literally.

And then—

The fighter pilot salutes. Slows down slightly. Falls directly behind them.

"Holy cow, he's getting into firing position!" Ryan yells.

---

Brace for impact.

We crouch. All except for Aoki. He stays seated, sipping his bitter coffee like he's waiting for the McDonald's ice cream machine to get fixed. No hurry. No care in the world.

Does this man have a death wish?

Then—BOOM!

I squeeze my eyes shut. A second passes. Then another. I peek up, bracing for flames—

Instead, Aoki is filming.

"What the fuck is so amusing?" I push up, heart hammering.

He motions to the window.

And there it is—a missile, flying side by side with our plane. Like it was racing us.

My blood turns to ice.

Aoki, completely unbothered, starts rattling off numbers. Speed. Yield. Blah, blah, blah. I can't even process it.

The worst part?

He casually reveals that he planned this.

1. He wanted to test the maximum power output of his plane. Telling the pilots or even Ryan would've compromised the experiment.

2. The fighter jets had to believe the chase was real. Their generals needed the results. Aoki sells them the data.

3. He knew. The entire time.

I don't know whether to be relieved or scared.

What I do know?

I'm the bride of a brainy, psychotic, mad scientist. And the worst part? I want him.

I want him to pump his babies into me. He is a thrill too real for me to surrender.

Not for the moon. Not for the sun.

---

The rest of the flight is calm, so we retire to our quarters.

Aoki holds out his hand. "Come over, baby girl. I don't bite…" His voice drops. "Except at the right places at the right times—times baked into moments, if you know what I mean."

I raise an eyebrow. "I don't know what you mean." A twitch plays at the corner of my lips. "Maybe you tell me."

"Maybe I show you."

His hands find my waist, pulling me in. His head between my legs. I gasp. The delayed gratification? Worth it.

He starts kissing my thighs, inching closer—

"What are you doing?" I whisper. Like I didn't know.

He smirks. "Checking on Eve. I heard she has another apple out for eating."

"What—"

Before I finish, he's gone. Sniffing me. His nostrils flare. His tongue—oh fuck.

He devours me like I'm groceries. I come twice before he even gets to the main event.

"I want you in me," I whisper. Weak. Hungry.

And he delivers.

No sleeping was slept on that night.

Not on that flight.

---

Approaching San Tiago Airport, Texas.

The pilot's voice crackles over the intercom.

Aiko stiffens. "Holy shit. We're supposed to be in Italy."

I already know what this means.

The flight was diverted.

We're being delivered to the U.S. for arrest. Just like they did to El Chapo.