Her heels click against the floor as she runs through the narrow steel corridors,
the pale white and grey walls blurring with the crimson blood of the corpses in the library into a nauseating fever dream.
Her breathing grows ragged as the scene haunts her mind again and again, like a Ferris wheel spinning at a dizzying speed.
"There she is!" a voice barks. "Get her!"
The thunder of multiple boots reverberates through the tightening corridor behind her, yet her limbs refuse to carry her any faster.
She saw it on the monitor mounted beside the steel door from the safety of the panic room: a crew member escorting a VIP guest, his wife, and their son and daughter.
But just as he reached the hidden door disguised as a bookshelf, the invaders burst in and murdered the family,
leaving only the crew member alive.
She slipped through the second exit just as they barged into the room,
now they are coming to take her life, too.
"You! Stop there!"
Her fiancé's dinner jacket slips from her shoulders, and she slows to watch it drift to the floor. Her blurred gaze lifts to the black-clad, shadowy figures,
their rifles trained on her.
Her heart pounds against her ribs as they close the distance. Yet as she turns to run, a hard grip seizes her arm,
throwing her off balance.
The man, torn from a distant nightmare, forces her back onto her feet. The others slow to a halt, their dead eyes fixed on her, studying her, and slitting her open.
The invaders part, allowing a shorter, heavyset man dressed in casual clothes to step forward.
His mouth twitches before a sickening grin warps across his large,
sweaty face. "Found you."
She twists her arm to break free,
but the man only tightens his grip and jerks her hard against his unyielding frame.
"Now, now. Be careful with the golden swan." Their chief clicks his tongue
and shakes his head in mild disapproval.
"Bring her out. We ride in five minutes," the chief orders, turning away as the others answer in acknowledgement.
"Why are you doing this?" Her voice comes out thin and flaky.
The chief halts and half turns, a smile slowly curling across his lips.
The steel door bursts open, and a sharp crack cleaves the stiffening air.
The grip on her arm loosens.
Before the man can collapse, he lunges out, catches her by the wrist, and yanks her into the room.
He slams the heavy steel door shut just as bullets pound against it, the chief's voice swallowed by the deafening roar of gunfire.
"Are you hurt?" Rhett asks, his gaze sweeping over her for the briefest second.
A sob escapes Neva, and she throws herself into his arms, his warm,
heavy breaths fanning across her brow.
He cradles the back of her head and says something she can't hear. Pressed against his chest, for now can't see his eyes.
He pulls away, caresses her cheek, then strides to the heavy metal cabinet, dragging it across the floor before slamming it against the steel door to barricade it.
"Come on," he says,
taking her hand and pulling her through the maintenance room's second exit as the invaders try to break through the steel door.
Another narrow corridor yawns before them.
Yet andrenaline surges through her veins, lending her the strength to keep pace with him.
The echo of the door bursting open reaches her ears just as they race
down the stairwell, bullets ricocheting off the steel railings around them.
The main corridor gapes open before them, a river of blood winding across the floor, passengers
and crew members sprawled lifelessly.
He pulls her behind the thick concrete wall of the stairwell landing before
stepping into position, gunfire echoing through the haunted corridor.
"Don't shoot!" a voice bellows through the chaos. "We need her alive!"
Pressed against the wall, she can only watch as Rhett steps out to face them head-on,
his pistol bucking again and again in his grip.
A single heartbeat of hesitation from their chief costs the invaders and death catches them in that cold span of a second, and they fall further down the stairwell.
"Rhett—" A choked sound escapes her, but he reacts before she can warn him
about the assailants creeping in from the opposite corridor.
The hollow click of an empty magazine seizes her heart with terror.
A curse escapes him as the two assailants open fire. He drops
behind the stairwell railing and reloads.
But before they can advance, a security officer in a deep blue uniform and
bulletproof vest emerges from the opposite corridor,
dropping the assailants with precise shots.
The officer's gaze settles on them, unaware of the fallen invader whose fingers tighten around his weapon. Before the man can raise it, Rhett shoots the gun from his hand, then takes him down with a another shot.
After a quick scan confirms the path is clear, he grabs her hand and
pulls her out of the stairwell.
The men exchange a single nod of acknowledgment before separating, moving toward opposite sides of the corridor, the path of corpses.
Yet she cannot bring herself to look into those empty eyes.
"The Navy is here," he says. "We'll be fine."
Her mind remains half-frozen when he halts and opens the door with his key card. Only then does she realize it is their own cabin.
He pulls her inside and shuts the door at once.
She would have never imagined, when they stepped out of their cabin some unknown hours ago, all dolled up, her arm looped through her fiancé's,
that the sparkling corridor of the mid-deck would become a river of red.
Her gaze falls to the tulle of her floral-glazed gown, the delicate whisper of fabric ruined by crimson blooming across the lower skirt.
He steps toward her and gently wraps a thick jacket around her shoulders.
Then her heart twists at the sight of blood streaking from his temple into his hairline.
His white shirt is stained crimson, and as if knowing the unspoken question within her, he cups her face.
"I'm fine," he whispers.
Her lips tremble, but she cannot find her voice.
He steps away and checks his weapon with practiced efficiency.
Then he pulls on his jacket, securing the black leather gear across his back.
Placing himself in front of her, he scans the way through the narrow gap of the door before finally leading her outside.
Distant gunfire and screams echo through the ship, dissolving into the Navy's muffled announcements over the loudspeakers as she lets him guide her
through the darkening maze of her mind, across bloodstained corridors
and down winding service stairwells.
The nauseating stench of blood and decay engulfs her as she looks down at the crimson sea.
Pale, bloated corpses drift upon its surface, their empty eyes fixed on the sky, and somehow, she feels she is to blame. Above them, the luxurious cruise ship still glows with dazzling light, while the white searchlights of the Navy and coast guard vessels cut through the frozen darkness.
Yet the cold wind brushing her cheeks, the waves crashing against the hull, and the distant roar of a helicopter all fade away as her feet slip off the ground.
Her heart stutters, the world tilting into a dizzying plunge as she falls, reaching for her Father, for she is afraid, so... so afraid.