Chapter 3 - The Locked Engine Room
The yacht rolled beneath us as thunder shook the hull.
Daniel tried the door.
Locked.
Captain Hale remained unconscious on the floor.
I knelt beside him.
“Captain?”
Nothing.
Daniel checked his pulse.
“Alive.”
“Can we get out?”
“Maybe.”
That word did not comfort me.
The intercom clicked again.
Flynn’s voice returned.
“I really wish you hadn’t made this difficult.”
I looked toward the ceiling speaker.
“Go to hell.”
A quiet laugh.
“There she is.”
The real Flynn had finally stopped pretending.
Daniel searched the compartment.
“What do you want?” I demanded.
“You already know.”
“My money?”
“Our money.”
“You were planning to murder me.”
“Words like murder sound ugly.”
“You were going to throw me into the ocean.”
“You were going to have an unfortunate accident.”
I thought of my parents.
“And Mom and Dad?”
Silence.
That was answer enough.
“You won't touch them.”
“You’re in no position to negotiate.”
Daniel pointed toward a ventilation panel.
Possible exit.
I kept Flynn talking while Daniel removed screws.
“You never loved me?”
Flynn hesitated.
For one foolish heartbeat, some damaged part of me wanted him to say he had.
Then he answered.
“No.”
The word hurt more than I expected.
Not because I still loved him.
Because I had loved someone who never existed.
Daniel removed the panel.
A narrow maintenance shaft waited beyond it.
He whispered, “You first.”
I crawled inside.
Behind me, Captain Hale groaned.
Daniel helped him into the opening.
It took several minutes.
The storm grew stronger.
When we emerged into another corridor, Hale finally opened his eyes.
“Flynn,” he whispered.
“We know,” I said.
He grabbed my wrist.
“No. You don’t.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“He has someone else onboard.”
Daniel and I exchanged looks.
“Who?”
Hale struggled to speak.
“Security.”
Our head of security was Marcus Vane.
A former military contractor hired by my father.
A man I had known for four years.
My heart sank.
“How do you know?”
“He hit me.”
That changed everything.
Flynn had not simply manipulated his family.
He had built a team.
Daniel helped Hale toward the medical room.
I checked my phone.
The recording remained intact.
Proof.
But proof was useless if we died before delivering it.
“Where’s the satellite terminal?” I asked.
“Bridge,” Hale whispered.
“Then that's where I'm going.”
Daniel shook his head.
“Marcus will expect that.”
“Exactly.”
I looked toward the stairs.
“So we make him expect me somewhere else.”
We created a plan.
A terrible plan.
But it was all we had.
Daniel would create an engine warning that forced Marcus or Flynn below.
Hale would hide in the medical room.
I would reach the bridge.
At 8:17 p.m., alarms sounded.
Red lights flashed.
I moved.
The yacht pitched violently as I climbed.
I heard Marcus shouting below.
Daniel had succeeded.
I reached the bridge.
Empty.
I locked the door.
The satellite terminal glowed.
I typed the emergency code my father had taught me years earlier.
CONNECTED.
I nearly sobbed.
I uploaded the recording.
First recipient: my father.
Second: maritime authorities.
UPLOAD 12%.
Come on.
27%.
Footsteps.
47%.
Someone hit the bridge door.
“Claire!”
Flynn.
63%.
“Open the door!”
78%.
The glass shook.
90%.
Flynn grabbed a fire extinguisher.
The window shattered.
UPLOAD COMPLETE.
I hit SEND.
Then Flynn climbed through.
For the first time since I met him, there was no charm left in his face.
Only rage.
“You stupid—”
I raised the phone.
“It’s over.”
He smiled.
“No.”
My confidence disappeared.
Flynn stepped closer.
“You think I didn't prepare for this?”
He pointed toward the terminal.
I looked.
MESSAGE FAILED.
Satellite connection lost.
Flynn smiled.
Then the bridge lights went dark.
May you like
And somewhere below us, Daniel screamed.
The yacht was now drifting into the storm—and Flynn still controlled who lived long enough to leave it.
