Chapter 2 - The Labyrinth of the Sea
The remote skidded across the plush carpet and struck the sliding glass balcony door with a dull clack.
Arthur groaned, clutching his elbow as he rolled onto his side on the cabin floor. Mason froze, paralyzed between rushing to help his father and fleeing toward the corridor door. His hand hovered over the brass handle like a man trying to decide whether to jump out of a burning plane.
I didn't give them time to choose.
In two long strides, I crossed the room, scooped up the satellite relay transmitter, and slipped it into the deep pocket of my wedding dress. Then, with the aluminum bat resting casually across my right shoulder, I stood over Arthur.
“Your generation built a lot of things, Arthur,” I said, looking down at the patriarch of Montgomery Logistics as he glared up at me with venomous hatred. “Mostly paper empires built on intimidation and the assumption that nobody would ever fight back. But you forgot one fundamental law of physics: every action has an equal and opposite reaction. You just pushed a retired gunnery sergeant.”
“You’ll never leave this ship,” Arthur wheezed, his face mottled with rage. “Security answers to the line operators. The captain is a personal friend of mine. When we report a violent, unhinged passenger——”
“Report what?” I interrupted, pulling my phone out of his linen jacket pocket where it had fallen during his tumble. I glanced at the screen. Face ID unlocked it instantly. “A domestic dispute in international waters? Do you know what cruise ship security hates more than anything else, Arthur? Maritime jurisdiction paperwork. And do you know what corporate conglomerates hate even more? Public federal investigations into asset laundering.”
I tossed my phone into my dress pocket alongside the remote.
Mason took a desperate step toward the door. “Elena, please... we can talk about this. We can go back to normal. We can—what are you doing?”
I didn't answer. I walked past him, grabbed him by the expensive silk lapels of his tuxedo jacket, and hauled him forward with enough force to lift him an inch off the ground. My face was inches from his. All the polished, practiced charm he had used to win over my mother and trick me into marriage had vanished, leaving behind only the whimpering coward I had married twelve minutes ago.
“You’re going to walk out that door in front of me,” I told him, my voice dropping into the cold, flat register I used when briefing platoons before a live-fire drill. “You are going to walk straight down to the ship’s executive purser's office. And you are going to tell them that you and your father attempted to commit financial extortion and assault.”
“I’ll never do that!” Mason stammered, his eyes wide with terror. “They’ll arrest me!”
“They’ll arrest both of you,” I corrected, giving his lapels a sharp shake. “Or, if you prefer, I can let you walk out alone, and I can handle your father and you using methods that don't involve the purser's office. Your choice, husband.”
Mason swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing violently. He looked back at his father on the floor. Arthur gave a microscopic, furious nod—the silent command of a general realizing his frontline had completely collapsed.
“Fine,” Mason whispered, his knees shaking. “Fine.”
“Good boy,” I said, stepping back and gesturing toward the corridor. “Lead the way.”
The stateroom door swung wide, revealing the long, softly carpeted hallway of Deck 10. The ship hummed beneath our feet, slicing through the dark Atlantic waters as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in violent shades of purple and red.
May you like
As we stepped out into the public passageway, I kept the aluminum bat hidden low against my side, concealed by the heavy folds of my wedding dress. We were entering enemy territory—a floating city of three thousand unsuspecting tourists, luxury restaurants, and casinos. Somewhere among them were Arthur’s corporate cronies and hired fixers.
We needed to reach the bridge or the chief security officer before Arthur’s allies realized the trap had sprung.
