The sea boiled with movement as the shark circled again, forcing the flailing pirate farther from the boat. Marcus’s decision slipped from his hands. Nature had already chosen. A sharp blast cut across the air — not from the sea, but from above. A horn, deep and commanding, rolled over the waves.
Marcus’s head snapped toward the horizon, where a white vessel surged closer, its wake foaming as it carved through the water. Blue stripes gleamed along its hull, sunlight glinting off the raised flag. The coast guard. Engines roared as the coast guard closed in. Two officers leaned over the bow, rifles slung but steady, voices amplified by the wind.