My heart hammered in my chest. Fear was a dangerous thing, but it was also a powerful motivator. I steadied my breathing, forcing the rising panic down. If I wanted to get off this boat alive, I had to be brave. I had to be cunning.
With my back pressed against the cold tiled wall and my gun aimed at my gown, I waited.
Whatever happened next, I knew one thing—I wouldn’t be a victim. Not again.
I sobbed into the air, echoing around the confines of the room. “Grandpa? Oh, Grandpa, please, you have to help me!” I infused my voice with all the terror and distress I could muster, hoping to sound believable. “I’m so scared…I don’t know where I am. They’ve taken me.”
Without warning, the door resounded with a powerful banging. My heart leapt into my throat.
Then a voice, familiar yet dreaded, pierced the air. “Shut up, Isla! Or I swear I’ll come in there and make you!” Sam’s voice, dripping with venom, froze me momentarily.
I pushed through and called out again, letting the sound of desperation paint the illusion. The more I cried, the more convinced he would be. I could almost see the smug satisfaction in his eyes, thinking he had me cornered, weak and defenseless.
“Please, Grandpa…Please save me,” I whimpered, amplifying my feigned crying, making it sound like Sam’s threats had broken me even further.
The door crashed open with violent force, and Sam, dressed in a black worker’s uniform, lunged toward the bunched-up gown in the corner, assuming I lay underneath. Hatred emanated from him as he approached, thinking he had the upper hand. He snarled at the pile of fabric.
“I told you to shut up!” he roared, drawing his leg back, preparing to deliver a vicious kick.
But he never got the chance.
Without hesitation, I burst into the room and pulled the trigger twice in quick succession. The deafening sound of gunfire rang out, and the back of Sam’s head exploded. Blood and gore splattered onto the white walls, painting the grim picture of his fate. His lifeless body crumpled forward, landing heavily on the bed, burying the gown beneath him.
I took a few shaky breaths, the realization of what I’d done sinking in.
There was no time to dwell on it, though. Others would have heard the gunshots, and I needed to act quickly. Whatever connection Sam had to all of this, it was now clear this wasn’t just a random kidnapping. This was personal.
And Rose was most likely on board, too.
The rush of the moment still held me in its grip, sharpening every detail and heightening every sensation. The faint lapping of water against the boat’s hull, the muffled cries in the distance, and the metallic tang of blood in the air—all of it was intensified by the adrenaline coursing through my veins.
Then Rose burst into the room, a whirlwind of fury. Her face contorted in confusion and shock as she scanned the room, registering the blood-soaked figure of Sam sprawled on the bed.
“Why, Sam? Why’d you have to ruin my fun?” she cried with petulant anger. Then she saw his mangled head and the horror set in. “Sam!” she screamed, rushing to him, shaking him desperately as if she could wake him from the deepest of slumbers.
As she knelt by Sam’s side, trying to shake some life back into his limp form, I stepped forward, my gun still in hand and aimed at her, every line of my body radiating a warning. “Sam won’t be waking up, Rose,” I declared, icily calm. “And soon, neither will you.”
Whipping around to face me, her face paled, her eyes wide with fear that quickly morphed into defiance. “You won’t do it, Isla,” she spat. “You don’t have the guts.”
“I can.” Drawing upon all the past pain and betrayals, I replied, “By ending you, I can erase every betrayal, every lie you spread about me.”
She shook her head desperately, tears brimming. “It wasn’t my fault! Sam…he forced me. You know I’d never hurt you. Please, Isla, if there’s any part of our past friendship left in you, let me go.”
I coldly met her gaze. “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. But a third time? Not in this lifetime.”
She dropped to her knees, desperation clear in every line of her face. “Please, Isla,” she begged, her voice breaking. “I never meant to take Sam from you. It just happened.”
A bitter laugh escaped me. “You think this is about the fiancé you stole from me? Take him.” I pointed at Sam’s lifeless form. “What’s left of him, anyway. This is about every time you used me, every lie you told, every wound you inflicted.”
“Remember our friendship. All the times we laughed, cried, shared secrets,” she stammered. “You were always forgiving, Isla. Always the one to see the good in people.”
“No,” I corrected her. “I used to be. But after the things you’ve done to me, there is no forgiveness left.”
Her desperate eyes locked onto mine as I kept the gun aimed steadily at her forehead. “Please,” she whispered, tears streaming down her face. “I never wanted it to be like this.”
But I wasn’t swayed. “My biggest regret was ever considering you a friend. For letting you use me for your gain and alienate me from everyone.”
“Don’t, Isla,” Rose sobbed, her voice breaking.
