Chapter 41

Jemma dragged herself back to her apartment after enduring six grueling hours of language training. All she wanted was to strip out of her clothes and sink into a hot tub. It was her fifth week of this torture, and her throat throbbed from endless repetitions of vowels and consonants. Standing during these sessions was killing her back, which made no sense to her. I mean, as a flight attendant, she spent hours on her feet while the plane was up in the air. It should be a breeze to stand and talk into a mic, right? Wrong. The worst part? Listening to herself on playback. She'd never realized how cringe-worthy her own voice could be until now. Tossing her bag aside, she trudged down the hallway toward her bedroom, eager to shed her work clothes. But just as she reached for her blouse buttons, something gave her pause. Had she glimpsed someone in her living room? Nah, couldn't be. The alarm was still on when she walked in, and she'd only deactivated it a few seconds ago.