Ethan woke to the faint hum of the ship’s engines and the soft creak of the cabin walls, his instincts snapping him into focus like a switch had flipped. He sat upright in the chair, wincing as his shoulder throbbed with a dull, persistent ache. Sunlight trickled through the small cabin window, a faint promise of a new day, but Ethan knew better—there were no new beginnings on this ship, only deeper spirals into secrets that refused to stay buried.
Scarlett stirred from where she lay curled beside Lia on the small bed. The little girl’s face was peaceful, clutching her teddy bear like a shield. Scarlett, however, looked far from rested. The strain of the last few days was etched into her every feature. Ethan had seen it before—people pushed to the brink, trying to hold everything together
