The seatbelt sign chimed off, and the packed cabin erupted into the usual claustrophobic chaos. Sandra stood at the forward exit door, her heart hammering against her ribs as Row 14 finally filed out onto the jetbridge. She kept her eyes glued to Chloe, who was walking with a rigid, terrified stiffness.
The moment they stepped through the glass doors into the bustling JFK terminal, two completely separate teams of police officers were already waiting at the gate, cutting through the moving crowd with military precision. Before anyone could speak, the first team of three plainclothes security officers, dispatched by Sandra’s mid-flight call, aggressively surrounded Daniel Vance.
“Daniel Vance? Step aside quietly, sir,” the lead plainclothes officer commanded, slamming his hands onto Daniel’s shoulders. Daniel instantly dug his heels into the polished floor, his face tightening into a mask of pure panic. “What on earth is this about?” he demanded, his voice echoing off the walls. “Let me go! You’re making a mistake!”