Chapter 4 - Turbulence and Truth
At 2:15 a.m., over the flat, dark expanse of Ohio, the jet hit a pocket of severe clear-air turbulence.
The aircraft dropped twenty feet in a fraction of a second with a violent, sickening lurch. The warning chimes sounded instantly.
“Fasten seatbelts! Crew, take your jump seats!” Gemma’s voice crackled over the intercom from the galley, tight with panic.
In the cabin, overhead compartments rattled. The two associates in the back grabbed their armrests, their faces pale.
Leo bolted awake, gasping in terror. The sudden, violent shaking of the plane sent vibrations straight through the floorboards into his small body, stripping away whatever fragile sense of security he had found.
He opened his mouth to scream, his eyes wild and unfocused as another violent jolt shook the cabin.
Silas didn't hesitate.
Before Khloe could cross the aisle, Silas unbuckled his belt, lunged across the narrow gap between the seats, and scooped Leo into his arms.
The boy thrashed, terrified, pressing his hands to his ears, blinded by the sudden motion and the flashing emergency lights.
Silas didn't yell. He didn't try to overpower his son with commands.
Instead, remembering what Khloe had taught him just hours before, Silas held Leo tightly against his chest, anchored his feet firmly against the floor, and brought his hands directly into the boy’s line of sight.
With deliberate, exaggerated slowness, Silas signed: Safe.
Then he pressed Leo’s small palm flat against his own chest so the boy could feel the steady, powerful thud of his father's heartbeat beneath the turbulence.
Leo froze.
He stopped thrashing. His breathing hitched as he stared up into his father’s face, feeling the rhythm of the heart that lived for him.
Silas repeated the sign, his hands steady as a rock despite the swaying of the cabin: Safe. Dad is here.
Leo let out a long, shuddering sigh, buried his face in his father’s collarbone, and wrapped his small arms tightly around Silas’s neck.
May you like
Silas closed his eyes, holding his son with a fierce, protective grip that defied every dark rumor whispered about the Costello name. A single, silent tear carved a path down his cheek, disappearing into the dark stubble of his jaw.
Khloe stood a few feet away, holding onto an overhead strap for balance, watching them. The storm had passed, the jet smoothing out into a steady, level cruise once more.
