A rusted hatch. The only option.
Blake swung the pry bar, forcing the seal until it gave. He shoved them through into dark stairs and colder air.
Boots multiplied overhead. “Cut portside! Cut?—”
He shut the hatch to a narrow gap. Red light flashed across Vivian’s face—focused, terrifyingly calm.
“Emergency launch stations are stern-side,” he said. “If we reach the catwalk?—”
“—lifeboats,” she finished.
“We get you off,” he corrected.
“Blake—”
“Viv.” Softer. “You know I’m right.”
A round pinged through the gap. Vivian shielded Mara instantly. Blake fired blind—enough pain and noise to stall the rush.
“Go. Two decks down. Follow the green beacons.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
“You’re not. I’m buying time.”
She hated that. Trusted it anyway.
“Thirty seconds,” she breathed.
“Twenty.”
She squeezed his forearm once and disappeared with Mara into the stairwell.
The hatch bucked under renewed force—boots, shoulders, weight testing metal. Blake braced and fired through the gap, pushing them back long enough to seize initiative.
He ripped the hatch open, dropping the three men in a tight, efficient blur—non-lethal where he could, final where he couldn’t.
They hit the floor. Groans. Alarms. Silence.
He tied the surviving guard, wedged the door to read jammed, and moved.
Heat and diesel thickened the air in the bay. The freight containers stood empty now. Victims gone. He heard gunfire below decks—sharp, organized, not panicked. Maybe the other victims had a chance. Maybe someone had gotten to them first.
A searchlight swept. Blake ducked behind machinery, timed its lazy pivot, and moved between sweeps. The guard on the catwalk never finished his radio report—Blake’s shot clipped him clean. Blake snagged the launch-key lanyard from him.
Footsteps. Reinforcements surged in.
Blake dropped from the ladder, hid behind a crate, returned fire in sharp bursts—one down, another crippled, the last losing the exchange. Seconds. Enough.
Pipes screamed overhead. The ship leaned. Pumps kicked on. Everything failing.
He swapped mags—three left.
“Twenty seconds, Viv,” he muttered.
A warning voice barked left. Blake fired into the bulkhead, forced the man back, then broke across the bay toward the aft passage.
The corridor opened—and Vivian burst into view with Mara.
