The heavy mahogany doors of the yacht's main salon slammed shut behind them with a muffled, satisfying thud, sealing off the terrified gasps of the shadow board.
Damien and Bella didn't rush. They walked side-by-side down the dimly lit, emergency-lit corridor of the yacht, their boots moving in absolute synchronization. The air outside the salon smelled of cold salt water and ozone, a sharp contrast to the suffocating, stale tension of the boardroom.
As they stepped out onto the open deck, the freezing sea wind whipped past them, carrying the distant rumble of the approaching storm.
Ethan was already waiting by the boarding ladder, sitting casually on the edge of the Zodiac with his assault rifle slung across his chest, watching the radar display on his wrist-unit.
"Status?" Ethan ask
