Chapter 405
Rylie took his hand, dried blood still clinging to his skin. “Tell me everything you know.”
Later that night, she returned quietly to her room. A thunderstorm loomed, casting dark shadows across the sea. The cabin lights flickered, tension thick in the air.
Outside, rain poured in sheets. People hurried back to their rooms, muttering and cursing under their breath. “Damn weather. The hurricane turned toward us — and now this thick fog. No signal at all.”
“Let’s just hope we don’t drift off course in this mess. The forecast says this storm might last until midnight tomorrow.”
“Just pray the ship doesn’t go under!”
“Shut up! We’ll lose hundreds of millions if it does!”
Their voices faded, leaving Rylie with a clear picture of what was happening outside.
At nine that evening, Rylie suddenly vomited in bed. Pale and dizzy, she stumbled to the door, banging on it and yelling for help.
A man outside caught sight of her ghostly face and panicked. He rushed off and brought Marsha.
Marsha came running with a first-aid kit, kneeling beside her. But as she checked her over, Rylie whispered, “You need to hide tomorrow. Make sure no one finds you.”
Hearing her words, Marsha froze. “What do you want to do? Are you going to start your plan?”
Rylie gave a faint nod. “If you want to live, then stay hidden.”
What Rylie offered was a single, casual remark, but it sent a chill racing down Marsha’s spine. She quickly checked on Rylie and discreetly pressed two small glass vials into her palm.
“Ether.”
It was the same substance traffickers used to abduct their victims. Just one breath or a sip, and a person would collapse within seconds.
Rylie slipped the vials into her pocket, then shut her eyes and let herself faint onto the bed. Marsha caught on instantly, rose to her feet, and told the guards outside, “She’s only seasick. There are no other symptoms. I gave her motion sickness medicine; she’ll recover after some rest.” The guards seemed convinced.
The storm raged through the night before finally subsiding, leaving behind a heavy, shapeless fog that engulfed the entire ship. Navigation signals were scrambled beyond use.
The vessel slowed, then came to a complete stop.
The captain reported the situation to Ronan, who remained shut away in his lavish cabin. With no other choice, they dropped anchor to wait out the fog. Continuing blind risked losing their course entirely.
The rusting vessel carried only enough fuel for a single trip to Marinth. If they drifted off course and ran out, they would be left stranded until the ship smashed into rocks and went under.
.
.
.