Chapter 408
Rylie swiftly patted them down, moving with practiced efficiency. From the first man, she pulled out a battered revolver and a few loose rounds rattling in his pocket. The second one carried a clean, well-kept 9mm with a spare magazine clipped to his belt.
She slid both weapons into her waistband, then shifted her focus to the injured mechanic writhing on the floor, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he clutched his shattered leg. Kneeling beside him, she pressed the cold muzzle of the pistol hard against his temple. Her voice was low and razor-sharp, each word laced with a deadly promise.
“Where’s the control room? And how many people are inside?”
Wracked by agony and terror, the mechanic was left helpless, tears streaming unchecked down his cheeks. “The control room—you’ll find it on the upper deck, all the way at the front. An iron staircase will take you up. There are three men stationed inside.”
“Very well.” Not a flicker of emotion crossed Rylie’s face as she calmly squeezed the trigger.
Engines thundered overhead, masking the muted pop of her weapon. The mechanic’s head slumped sideways, a crimson wound blooming on his forehead.
Rylie turned and strode over to the bomb, her brow arching as she sized up the tangle of wires.
Her assessment was swift: this crude device matched the explosive she had once discovered under Brad’s car, positioned to blow beneath the fuel tank. One spark would annihilate the entire ship in seconds.
Rylie wasted no time. Plucking pliers from the mechanic’s tool kit, she clipped the detonation wire with expert speed, defused the bomb, and dunked it into a bucket of water to neutralize it for good.
Moving toward the exit, she caught sight of drainage pipes snaking along the deck. After a short pause, she shattered a glass case, grabbed a fire axe, and brought it down with force, smashing open the pipe.
A flood of water surged from the rupture. Without a second glance, Rylie dropped the axe and slipped away.
Word of the breach reached the control room instantly through the ship’s alert system.
Attention shifting, the captain glanced at his deputy. “There’s water coming into hold number one. Go and check what’s wrong.”
With a curt nod, the deputy departed.
Shadows became Rylie’s refuge. She pressed herself against the boundary where light faded to dark, silent as the grave. The moment the deputy passed, exposing his back, she struck—one swift, deadly move was all it took to subdue him. She quietly dragged his limp form into the safety of the shadows.
Step by step, she climbed the iron staircase, her eyes set on the control room ahead.
Upon pushing the door open, Rylie found the captain and another crew member hunched over navigation charts, neither bothering to look up. The captain’s voice cut through the air, asking, “Back already? Did you even inspect the leak? What’s the report?”
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