Gianna's POV
The Fog Walker's engine wasn't a sound, it was a heartbeat. A rough, metallic, constant heartbeat that vibrated through the soles of my boots and settled into my bones, reminding me that with every passing second, the distance between Sebastian Volkov and me grew a little more insurmountable.
Three days had passed since Arthur found me in the hold. Three days in which the world shrank to a small cabin that smelled of pipe tobacco, reheated coffee, and old maps. The seasickness hadn't completely disappeared, but the gingerbread cookies Arthur pulled from a rusty tin worked wonders.
"Are you sure about this, girl?" Arthur asked, his eyes glued to the analog radar that cast a greenish glow in the cabin's gloom. "I've spoken to some contacts in the port of Halifax. There's a Pa
