The fishing trawler cut through the black water with a low, steady thrum, its hull encrusted with decades of salt and neglect. It was a boat that belonged to no one, registered under a dead man's name, and it moved through the fog like a ghost. The island lay ahead, its dark shape barely visible against the horizon—a jagged slab of rock and pine, rising from the Atlantic like a wound that had never healed.
Caleb stood at the bow, his hands gripping the cold railing, his eyes fixed on the approaching shore. The wind was sharp, carrying the taste of salt and the distant promise of snow. Behind him, the team moved in silence—checking weapons, reviewing plans, steeling themselves for what was to come. They had been traveling for three days, crossing borders and skirting checkpoints, moving th
