The private jet hummed steadily at 30,000 feet, a sleek silver bullet slicing through the night sky somewhere over the Arabian Sea. The cabin lights were dimmed low, casting long shadows over the luxurious leather seats and polished wood panels. Sneha Kapoor, the lead flight attendant for the elite charter service, clutched the edge of the galley counter, her knuckles white. Her crisp navy uniform—fitted blouse hugging her full breasts, pencil skirt clinging to her wide hips, and sheer black stockings—felt like a prison now.

It had started with the refusal. The syndicate had approached the airline with "cargo" that no one in their right mind would touch—drugs, weapons, who knew what else. The board said no. Retaliation came swift and brutal. Three men had stormed the private jet during boarding, guns drawn, forcing the pilots to take off under duress. The other crew and passengers? Left behind or subdued. Only Sneha remained, the lead, the one they wanted to break.