A death alarm burned through the blood-bleached walls as disguised invaders shed their masks and warned of a catastrophe.
Screams and tears gave way to gunfire, and spirits that soared with courage to fight chained by the violent force of the proud and unfeeling thieves.
Herded like sheeps without a shepherd, rough hands tilted their chins upward, searching for something in them. Was it their faces, their hearts, or their souls?
Once satisfied the wolves dragged the sheeps forward and pressed the red record button on the device that trapped memories, demanding riches before
gunfire cracked and ricocheted through the last screams of terror and prayer.
Wolves cloaked in the shadows of death descended from the deep-blue sky aboard choppers forged for war, the deck trembling beneath the thunder
of boots pounding across the cold corpses strewn over the main deck.
The leader of the invaders teases the thin line between life and death,
the soles of his boots trickling sticky scarlet blood with each rise and fall of his stride.
The girl's heartbeat spikes into a frantic rhythm in her ears as he draws nearer, and nearer, drowning out the whimpers of the passengers kneeling behind her.
Her whole body trembles beneath the towering shadow as he stops before her, a choking sound escaping her as he presses the muzzle of his rifle to her head.
"Lift your eyes up, sugar," says the man, voice coy and bitter.
Tears stream down her cheeks as she flinches at the sharp click of his gun.
"I said, eyes on me," he says through gritted teeth.
Slowly, she obeys, meeting the bloodthirsty pupils that widen as they search for something within her.
Whatever he finds... it fills him with euphoria.
Terror freezes her bones as a shot rings out.
A faint ache blossoms within her skull, and she falls.
The screams fade into nothing as warm liquid pools
around her cheek, and she breathes her last.
The man grins as he steps forward, and when one of his scout members shakes his head, he orders the scanned captives to be dragged in the centre to face the others.
"Have you found her?" His commander, Mr. Huston, strides toward him, a round-bellied, medium-height man in his early fifties.
"No, sir," replies the leader of Scout Hawkeye.
Mr. Huston's expression darkens. "Look harder."
"Yes, sir." John, the leader inclines his head.
Huston scans the cowering captives in the centre before walking away, escorted by ten scouts.
John turns toward the hundreds who had failed their inspection
and makes his way to a woman embracing a little boy, her prayers clear in his ears despite the cries around them.
The woman's prayers dissolve into silence as he presses the muzzle of his rifle against her head.
A grin curves up his mouth as he pulls the trigger, an electric thrill racing down his spine as the woman crumples to the floor, blood pooling around her.
Lucas, the little boy, reaches out to touch his mother's cold cheek. A breeze stirs her dark hair as the light fades from her blue eyes and they stare into nothing.
"Mommy," he whispers.
The man crouches before Lucas.
A whimper escapes the boy as rough fingers seize his hair.
He chuckles. "I killed your mommy."
His breath, rancid with the smell of smoke, washes over Lucas's cheek.
Then he stands, and something cold presses against Lucas's forehead.
"Time to meet your mommy—"
A resounding crack cleaves through the air, cutting him off.
Then the leader's gaze empties.
And he sinks to his knees before collapsing face-first at Lucas's feet.
Blood trickles like a crimson river from the hole blooming in his forehead. Gasps ripple through the air as the scouts raise their rifles, sweeping the deck with wary eyes in search of the mysterious shooter.
Among the herded captives awaiting slaughter, the ex-Marine flicks his gaze toward the shadowed corner of the upper deck, waiting for an opening.
Rhett exhales, his breath misting in the cold air as he peers through the scope,
every ounce of his focus fixed on the chaos unfolding below.
The gunfire is little more than a dull thud behind his ear protection as he squeezes the trigger.
One of the mercenaries drops.
Panic erupts as the others unleash a hail of blind gunfire into the air.
In the shadow of the writhing darkness, he nudges the scope a hairbreadth.
Another hairbreadth... and he squeezes the trigger.
Stray bullets rain around him, splintering steel only inches away.
And his DMR sings... in perfect rhythm,
drawing the thieves into a dance of death.
Screams are swallowed by the roar of gunfire as the ex-Marine, Michael,
snatches up an HK417 from a fallen mercenary and weaves his way through the shifting tide of passengers fleeing for cover.
He fires the instant one of the armed men raises his rifle.
His breath turning ragged as he pushes forward through the chaos in search of his family of three.
Rhett emerges from the shadows of the bridge and steps through the crew access door into a corridor washed in dim light, still untouched by the slaughter.
As his instincts wage war against his ingrained loyalty, guilt and fear seize his chest at the thought of his fiancée, alone in the panic room concealed behind the walls of the ship's library.
How had he not seen it coming?
He had believed he'd been careful, vigilant, prepared.
What do these highly trained mercenaries, more than a hundred of them, really want?
Political unrest? Money? Control? Or... a specific person?
Did Raka send them?
No. The agents, and he himself,
had made certain nothing could expose them.
But it wasn't impossible.
His jaw hardens, and he pushes the door open, stepping into the hallway before descending the stairwell, its walls slick with blood and scarred by bullet holes.
The panic room could buy her only so much time.
He has to get back to her.
First, he needs to create an opening for the cybersecurity team while they wait for the Coast Guard and the Navy.
The instant a mercenary rounds the corner, he reacts.
A shot cracks through the hallway, and the man collapses against the wall, dead.
As he steps around the bodies of two passengers,
a middle-aged man and woman, a heavy weight settles over his heart.
And he prays that God will keep his Angel safe, just... just until he can return to her and they can escape aboard a boat. Never to be found by blood and darkness again.