Mr. Douglas shot to his feet. Janice's phone didn't move. The red dot kept blinking. Heather's hand hung frozen in the air.
Her chest heaved. Her eyes were wide, not with regret, with adrenaline, with the sudden horrible realization that her body had done something her brain hadn't approved. The cabin was so quiet you could hear the ice shifting in Mr. Henderson's glass three rows away. Briana turned her head back, slowly.
Her cheek was bright red. A thin line of swelling was already rising along the bone, but her eyes, her eyes were dry and still and absolutely terrifying. She didn't say a word. She didn't need to.
Heather's brain kicked back in. She looked around. The staring faces, the phone still recording, the red mark on Briana's cheek. Panic flooded in.
But instead of apologizing, instead of dropping to her knees and begging, she did what people like her always do. She doubled down. She walked straight to the intercom, pressed the button. Her voice shook, but she made it hard.
"This is senior flight attendant Wilson. I need the captain to contact JFK ground security. We have a disruptive and aggressive passenger in first class, seat 2A. She needs to be removed upon landing.
Requesting security escort at the gate." She released the button, looked at Briana, lifted her chin. "Good luck explaining yourself to the police."
Briana sat down. She folded her hands in her lap. Her cheek throbbed.
The cabin buzzed with whispers, but she heard none of them. She was already three moves ahead. 38 minutes later the landing gear hit the tarmac at JFK. The plane taxied to the gate. The seatbelt sign chimed off.
Nobody moved. The cabin door opened. Two figures stepped into first class. Navy blue uniforms, security badges.
Officer Ray Dawson, mid-30s, broad shoulders, crew cut, and his partner, a younger woman with a clipboard. Heather intercepted them before they reached row two. Her voice was polished now, professional, controlled, rehearsed. "Officers, thank you for coming.
The passenger in 2A has been disruptive and physically aggressive throughout the flight. I had no choice but to request security assistance for the safety of the cabin." Dawson looked past Heather. He saw Briana, hoodie, sneakers, hands folded in her lap. Then he looked at Heather.