The sail hung in tatters above them, its torn edges snapping like a warning in the wind. With no way to push forward, the boat drifted helplessly on the open sea. Liam stared at the empty horizon, realizing the ocean had suddenly turned into a trap.
Ethan tried the radio again, static crackling before a voice cut through—rough, halting, broken English. “Give… exact location,” it said. The tone carried no reassurance, only command. Ethan’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t answer right away. Something about the request didn’t sound like help. It sounded like bait.
Then the shapes appeared—two long boats sliding out from behind the island, moving fast, too fast. Spray leapt from their bows as they cut across the glittering sea. Liam’s heart lifted, thinking rescue had come early. But Ethan’s words cut sharp and final: “That’s not help.”