Chapter 4 - The Predator in the DeepA startled, terrified shriek tore from Flynn’s throat as the open air swallowed him whole. He hit the freezing, violent surface of the Atlantic with a heavy slap, the churning wake of the yacht instantly pulling him into the churning darkness. I scrambled back against the cabin bulkhead, chest heaving, clutching the wet railing as I watched his head bob desperately in the mountain-sized swells.
I didn't blink. I didn't flinch. I turned around and walked calmly back down through the interior corridors, dripping wet and shivering, heading straight toward the grand salon on the main deck. There, Aidan and Fiona sat sipping more champagne, whispering eagerly about how soon the authorities would find my empty bed. When the heavy mahogany doors swung open and I stepped inside, perfectly upright and staring straight at them with cold, dead-eyed clarity, Fiona dropped her crystal glass, shattering it into a thousand glittering pieces across the floor. Aidan’s face drained of every drop of color, his jaw dropping as if he were staring face-to-face with a resurrected ghost.
"How... how are you...?" Aidan stammered, backing away until his legs hit the sofa. "The dosage... the ocean..." I walked slowly toward them, pulling Flynn’s unlocked phone out of my pocket and tossing it onto the glass coffee table right in front of them. "Flynn sends his regards," I said smoothly, my voice cutting through the salon like a scalpel. "He slipped on the wet deck during the squall. Quite a tragic accident, really. I suppose the ocean took care of the rest." Fiona shrieked, collapsing into hysterics as she realized their entire multibillion-dollar conspiracy had completely evaporated in a single heartbeat.
