I noticed him the second I stepped onto the plane. It wasn’t just the cowboy hat, though that alone was enough to turn heads. Wide-brimmed and perfectly tilted, it shadowed his face in a way that made him look both mysterious and unapproachable. His jawline was sharp, his T-shirt stretched tight over broad shoulders and a chest that suggested he didn’t spend much time sitting behind a desk.

He looked like someone who should’ve been riding a horse into the sunset, not buckled into seat 14A.

I tried to focus on finding my seat, but something about him made it hard not to glance back. Every time I did, his eyes were already on me—not predatory, just… observant. Like he saw something I didn’t know about myself yet.

I slid into my seat, pulled out a book I had no intention of reading, and tried to calm my racing heart.

That’s when the flight attendant leaned toward him and said softly, “Another bourbon, Mr. Maddox?”

Maddox. The name landed in my chest like a warning shot. Strong, a little dangerous.

We hadn’t spoken, but he hadn’t stopped watching me. It wasn’t until the turbulence hit that things really started unraveling.

The plane jolted hard. My hand shot out, gripping the armrest like it was my last lifeline. Before I could even steady my breath, he was beside me.

“You okay, ma’am?” His voice was low, rough around the edges, and somehow comforting.

I tried to smile. “Yeah, just… not a fan of flying.”

His lips twitched like he was suppressing a smirk. “You shouldn’t be worried about the turbulence.”

My brows drew together. “Then what should I be worried about?”

His gaze lingered on mine. He didn’t answer. Just turned and walked back to his seat like he hadn’t just dropped a ticking thought grenade in my lap.

The next half hour crawled. Every bump of the plane, every shadow that moved across the cabin made my pulse spike. I kept looking back at him. And every time, his eyes were locked on mine, unwavering, like he was waiting for me to understand something.

I couldn’t take it anymore.

I got up, heart thudding, and started walking toward the back. As I passed his row, his hand reached out, just barely brushing my arm.

“Miss,” he said softly. “Do you have a second?”

I paused. Around us, no one paid attention. His grip wasn’t tight, just intentional. I hesitated, and he motioned toward the empty seat beside him.

“I’m not trying to scare you,” he said, lowering his voice. “Just… trust me for a moment.”

Against every ounce of logic, I sat.

He leaned in, voice barely audible. “I’m not just a passenger. I work for a private security firm. The man sitting three rows behind you—he’s on Interpol’s radar. Weapons trafficking. Extremely dangerous.”

My mouth went dry. “What does this have to do with me?”

“He’s been watching you since you boarded. You sat in his line of sight. That’s why I’ve been watching you—making sure he didn’t try anything.”

I stared at him, trying to process. “You’re serious?”

He nodded once. “Dead serious. And we’re almost there. So stay calm.”

The captain came on, announcing our descent. My hands were slick with sweat. Every noise felt amplified, every shift in the cabin too sharp. I kept my eyes forward, resisting the urge to look back.

As we landed and began to taxi, Maddox leaned in one final time. “When the seatbelt sign goes off, stay put. Law enforcement is already waiting.”

The sign pinged, and the usual rustle began—passengers unbuckling, reaching for overhead bags, crowding the aisle.

But I stayed frozen, eyes on my tray table.

Three men boarded, moving quickly toward the back. There was a quiet commotion—low voices, a shuffle of movement. Then silence.

“All clear,” Maddox said softly.

As the crowd thinned, I finally stood, grabbed my bag, and followed him into the aisle.

“I’m sorry if I scared you earlier,” he said as we stepped into the terminal. “Had to keep things subtle.”

I exhaled, finally releasing the breath I’d been holding since takeoff. “You definitely succeeded in not being subtle.”

He chuckled. “Next time, I’ll keep the hat, lose the suspense.”

We walked side by side through the terminal. There was something oddly grounding about his presence, like the storm had passed and left a strange calm in its wake.

Before we reached baggage claim, I stopped. “Thank you. For watching out for me.”

His gaze softened. “That’s the job. But honestly? You handled yourself like a natural.”

We shook hands—his grip warm, steady. There was a pause, just a beat too long to be casual.

Life doesn’t always warn you when something big is about to happen. Sometimes, it just walks onto your flight in a cowboy hat and doesn’t look away.

And not every unsettling stare is a threat. Sometimes, it’s protection in disguise.