His voice has changed, almost panicked. “Can you please…?” He extends his wrist. Thatcher and I exchange a look, one full of apprehension. Something isn’t right. My brother hasn’t been this hostile since I spoke to him back in the apartment. And then I notice the change: the door to the airplane. The flight crew has finally boarded, which means we only have about ten minutes before takeoff. If Beckett were to make a move to leave, it’s now or never. Thatcher must see this too because he narrows a look on me and shakes his head. Silently telling me don’t do it.
