A scream pierced the darkness.
Rosalind’s pulse spiked as the ship lurched beneath her, the sudden shift sending glasses shattering onto the deck. She could hear the frantic shuffle of feet, hushed curses, and the sharp clatter of something metal hitting the floor.
Tristan was at her side in an instant. “Stay close.” His voice was calm, controlled—but his stance was taut, ready.
She didn’t need the warning. Instinct had already kicked in. Her fingers brushed against the knife strapped to her thigh beneath the slit of her dress.
The emergency lights flickered to life, bathing the deck in an eerie red glow. It wasn’t enough to see clearly, but just enough to cast long, twisting shadows.
Then came the second scream—closer this time.
Rosalind’s head snapped toward the banquet hall. The g
