Eleanor leaned back slightly in her seat, her expression one of serene confidence. “I don’t think you understand the gravity of the situation, Victoria,” she said, her voice as poised as ever. “Please, fetch the captain now.”
Victoria hesitated, her smirk faltering. There was something in Eleanor’s tone, a quiet power that didn’t quite align with her frail exterior. The other passengers, sensing the tension building, shifted in their seats, their earlier irritation turning into intrigue. One of the men in a pinstripe suit glanced up from his newspaper, his interest piqued.
Eleanor’s fingers moved with a deliberate grace as she reached into the pocket of her suit and pulled out a small leather wallet. A gold badge gleamed in the cabin’s soft lighting, catching Victoria’s eye. The badge was unmistakable—federal, official, and most importantly, authoritative.
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