The energy aboard the ship shifts as we step into the new day. The atmosphere, once buzzing with carefree conversations and laughter, feels more like a tightly strung violin string. Whispers of Mia’s discovery, the briefing, and the unresolved questions linger in every corner we pass.
Jack and I sit on the promenade deck after breakfast, the salt-laden breeze carrying a deceptive calm. Despite the picturesque surroundings of the vast blue sea stretching endlessly around us, I can't shake the unease bubbling beneath the surface.
Jack’s blue eyes scan the horizon, his jaw clenched in thought. “They’re still here,” he murmurs, his voice low and serious.
“They?” I ask, although I know exactly what he means.
“Whoever did this to Mia,” Jack says, turning to face me. “They’re not done. I can
