The enemy is here

Rumbling... Booming... Crashing...

Bullets rain down on the Oasis cruise, blaring like war drums. Rhett fights alone—against the demons closing in on them.

Violence. Blood. Chaos.

Neva clasps a trembling hand over her mouth, red smearing her cheeks—tears streaming as she stares out from behind the half-shut door of the third-floor cabin where Rhett has hidden her.

Her breaths come out shallow and ragged as her reddened eyes reflect the terror of the soul... The terror of the world that gnaws at her soul.

She turns away.

She clutches the tiny figure lying limp in her lap… drenched in blood.

Her hands press down on his stomach, desperate to stop the bleeding.

The boy wheezes—fighting to breathe, fighting to live.

Across the deck, Rhett crouches behind a shattered handrail, breath heaving, fingers moving fast—unloading, loading the next magazine into the machine gun.

Two hours ago, there was peace. Merriment. Laughter on the cruise that sailed the Heart of the Ocean.

How? Why did this happen?

---

(Two hours earlier)

Neva sits cross-legged on her bed, a hand over her stomach as she laughs uncontrollably, head thrown back, tears in her eyes.

Noah blinks at her, confused.

The story wasn't meant to be funny. Or… was it?

Still, he giggles—grinning at the way she chortles like she can't breathe.

She's laughing at his very real tale: how his grandma wears her prescription glasses to bed—even with her eyes closed—because she's too embarrassed to wear them during the day.

Noah had told it in earnest. He was worried about her eyesight.

On the other side of the bed, Rhett lies on his back, arms folded behind his head, a reluctant smile playing on his lips. He watches Neva, his earlier irritation slowly dissolving.

Minutes ago, he'd been annoyed—jealous of the little boy stealing Neva's attention away from him.

Fate had its own plans. Noah and his father's cabin was just two doors away.

The boy had knocked, grinning ear to ear. Rhett opened the door and frowned down at him, unimpressed.

But Noah had recognized them.

He'd seen them on day one, making their way to this cabin.

Even though he only saw her once, Neva had already carved a place in his heart.

He just wanted to see his princess again.

Neva peeked from inside and found the little human she'd crossed paths with days ago. Rhett had been firm about not letting him in—but Neva's soft eyes and gentle smile melted his resolve.

Noah explained that his father had gone for a business meeting and would return in half an hour. He was alone.

Now, Neva covers her lips with her hand, trying not to laugh. She feels bad for laughing at his poor grandma's habits.

Only to snort a second later. The image in her head is too much.

The twilight sky glows golden beyond the blue curve of the sea. The sun slips toward the horizon. Peace lingers.

But they don't know.

Not yet.

That this warmth will crack.

That laughter will be swallowed by screams. That the hush of ocean waves will be shattered by gunfire.

The first warning creeps in when Rhett opens his laptop for a routine check—hacking into the cruise's internal security network.

Video feeds flicker to life—cameras capturing almost every inch of the ship.

Almost. No surveillance inside cabins.

His eyes flick across the feeds—watching for anything unusual. He scans the decks, the engine room, the sky. Then shifts to the ship's radar.

His chest tightens.

There—an incoming blip on the marine radar: a destroyer-class vessel, approaching fast.

Thirty knots. At this speed, they'll be on them in no time.

He mutters a curse under his breath.

He was hoping the voyage would pass quietly.

Neva looks up at him, her laughter gone. Her gaze is anxious now—uncertain, but sensing the shadow looming in his silence.

Rhett's breath falters, just for a moment. Then he sets his jaw. The gleam in his eyes hardens to steel. Determined.

He gives her a soft smile. Reassuring.

But that smile—too soft, too final—makes her stomach twist.

He'll keep her safe. No matter what.

He's done worse to protect less.

He has weapons—packed carefully in their luggage, concealed in materials designed to pass undetected through security systems.

But even now, he dares hope… that he's wrong. That maybe—just maybe—the signs are false.