What will Cian do if I never come back?
Will he just go along with Hawk’s plan until death takes him?
Or will he take his own life?
Every organ is ready to burst, my throat feels like it’s about to turn inside out, and stiffness cakes my oxygen-deprived muscles. I’m clawing my way to the surface with the last of my strength and finally, I breach it.
A raw, ragged gasp tears past my lips as water falls away from my face and I suck in much-needed air. I do it again and choke as I sink back under the waves with a mouthful of saltwater, then I push myself back up and gasp for more air. Above me, the yacht rests silently in the water and after a quick glance around, I spot one of the speedboats I saw earlier. It floats next to a ladder a few feet away.
Unwilling to accept the relief surging through my mind, I put the last of my strength into swimming toward the ladder and I don’t stop until the metal rungs are firmly in my grip.
Climbing on board is almost as difficult as swimming and by the time I reach the top, I’m spent. I collapse onto the deck, coughing and hacking up the water I swallowed, then I fall onto my back and lie there gasping like a baby taking its first breath.
Holy shit.
Holy fucking shit.
I did it.
I made it.
Above me, the stars blink in and out of focus as adrenaline and rushing oxygen make my vision waver. My heart’s pounding so violently that dark spots pulse on the edge of my vision and my throat is painfully raw.
Thankfully, the cold of the ocean has somewhat numbed my shoulder.
“Get up, Faina,” I croak. “Don’t rest. Not yet.”
Cian has given me an opportunity and I’m not going to waste it.
But before I do anything, I need some fucking clothes.
Sneakingbelow deck is deceptively easy but I’m forced to run when Hawk and Cian’s conversation drifts through the night air as they wander the upper deck. I catch Hawk praising Cian for making the right choice and then make myself scarce.
The lower deck is an infinite network of corridors and rooms that are thankfully mostly empty. Locating an empty bedroom, I sneak inside and close the door then head straight to the en-suite to check myself over. Soaked to the bone with my underwear barely clinging to my body, I examine my wound in the mirror. My pale skin makes the graze stand out like a vibrant, red scar. Blood flow is sluggish and the cold keeps me numb enough that I don’t feel it as much when I move.
For a moment, I stare into my eyes in silence while trying to ground myself in what’s happening. Both of us could die here. Everything we’ve worked for could just end.
I can’t let that happen.
After cleaning the wound and patching it rather badly with some bandages I found under the sink, I return to the bedroom and start going through the drawers and closet in search of clothes.
Empty.
The next two rooms I sneak into are exactly the same, but the third finally shows signs of life. The bed sheets are rumpledand someone sings happily in the shower, completely oblivious to my presence. Raiding their closet, I find a black work shirt and a pair of cream slacks. Not my taste but they’ll do. Dressing quickly, I sneak back out of the room but hesitate in the doorway. The last thing I need is someone realizing clothes are missing and raising an alarm.
Back in the room, I scan surfaces and drawers until I find some loose wire at the back of a drawer. Its new home becomes the lock on the bedroom door as I jam it in place to bust the lock after closing the door. At the very least, it will buy me some time.
Deeper into the yacht, I come across more and more people but they don’t even bother to look my way. Some are engrossed in work on laptops and computers, others are wired into the entertainment system or passed out drunk. Quite a few of these people I recognize from the plane, including the stewardess.
Given that Hawk always travels by water, it’s safe to assume this is his main base of operations and these are the people who keep it running. Which means every single one of them is dangerous.
We have to take him out here and now. If we don’t then we’ll lose him for good, and it’s impossible to pinpoint a man who travels the world constantly. As for how, I’m running low on ideas and battery.
I pause at a fork in the corridor and hug the wall, still trying to regain the air I lost in the water. Every second I linger here is another second Cian is with Hawk, and there’s no telling how much time this trick will buy us. As I scan each hallway searching for a clue, a man exits one of the nearby rooms and starts striding toward me while noisily chewing on some gum. Each smack of his lips irritates me more and more so as soon ashe reaches the corner, I slam my hand into his throat and choke him.
He stumbles backward. I run toward him, leap up against the wall, and push off with one foot while bringing my other leg up around his shoulder. The moment I make contact, I tighten my thighs and throw myself backward, toppling him over and using his weight against him. He flies over me, silent due to the blow to the throat, and lands in an unconscious heap on the other side. Panting, I stand and loop my hands under his armpits then drag him into the thankfully empty room he just left. Searching his pockets, I steal his gun and a radio then continue my search.
A few more guards fall under my hands, warming my body to the point that my shoulder throbs painfully with every step, but I use that pain to keep me focused as I head deeper and deeper into the yacht. There has to be an engine or control room here somewhere, and that’s the key to making sure this yacht ends up at the bottom of the ocean.
