Chapter 68 - The Sinking of the Siren’s Ghost
With the warehouse perimeter compromised and their primary ambush squad neutralized by Arthur’s tactical team, the remaining Aegis Maritime mercenaries broke formation and scrambled toward the docks where their flagship vessel, the Siren’s Ghost, was moored.
Evelyn, her face smeared with soot and her eyes blazing with fierce determination, charged out of the smoking warehouse doors just as the massive steel hull of the mercenary ship began revving its twin diesel engines, slipping its mooring lines in a desperate bid to escape out into the open Mediterranean.
"They're trying to make a run for international waters!" Arthur reported over the tactical comms, sprinting up beside her with his carbine raised.
"Not today," Evelyn commanded, her voice ringing out with absolute finality.
She spotted a heavily armored harbor patrol boat idling at the adjacent pier, its keys still dangling in the ignition console. Without a moment's hesitation, she leaped down onto the floating pontoon dock, vaulted over the gunwale of the patrol boat, and slammed the throttles forward.
Arthur and two of his operators scrambled aboard right behind her as the powerful interceptor surged forward, cutting a violent white wake through the dark, choppy waters of the Maltese harbor.
"Hold on!" Evelyn shouted, hauling the steering wheel hard to port as she slammed the boat directly into the intercept trajectory of the fleeing Siren’s Ghost.
The gap between the two vessels closed with terrifying speed. On the stern deck of the mercenary ship, several desperate operatives raised their rifles, but Arthur and his men unleashed a devastating volley of return fire, sweeping the deck clean in seconds.
Evelyn didn't slow down. She slammed the prow of the patrol boat directly against the steel flank of the Siren’s Ghost, locking the two hulls together in a brutal, bone-jarring impact.
"Boarding action!" Arthur roared, tossing a grappling line over the high gunwale of the mercenary ship and hauling himself up onto the deck, followed immediately by Evelyn.
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The deck of the Siren’s Ghost was deserted save for a single figure standing near the darkened wheelhouse door—a tall, impeccably dressed man whose tailored suit was severely wrinkled, his silver hair windblown, and his eyes wild with frantic, unmitigated panic.
Julian Thorne.
