Chapter 9 - The Captain’s Secret
The heavy steel door slammed shut behind us with a resounding, hydraulic lock.
Sebastian threw the locking lever into place, cutting off the howling wind and the distant pop of gunfire outside. He leaned back against the bulkhead for a fraction of a second, his chest heaving, his dark eyes shadowed with a heavy, dangerous exhaustion.
“Are you hit?” I asked frantically, my hands dropping the Glock to the deck as I reached out to touch his arms, checking for blood.
“I’m fine,” Sebastian said softly, catching my hands in his. His grip was warm, grounding me in the sterile, oil-stained interior of the ship. “You?”
“I think I’m going to throw up,” I whispered, a hysterical laugh bubbling up in my throat. “Or pass out. Or both.”
“Not yet,” a gravelly, unfamiliar voice cut through the metallic hum of the engine room.
We both spun around.
Standing at the top of a narrow steel staircase leading up to the bridge was an older man with graying hair, wearing a heavy canvas captain’s jacket. He had a scarred hand resting casually on the handle of a heavy tactical shotgun.
“Captain Vance,” Sebastian said, his voice dropping into a tone of chilling realization.
The older man chuckled, a dry, grating sound. He stepped down the stairs, his eyes fixing on me before shifting back to Sebastian.
“Not quite, Sebastian,” the captain smiled, revealing yellowed teeth. “I’m just the man who keeps the engines running. The real Captain sends his regards from the top deck.”
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Before Sebastian could draw his weapon, the side panel of the engine room bulkhead slid open silently, and three more armed mercenaries stepped out from the shadows, their assault rifles pointed straight at our chests.
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