chapter 9

### **Chapter 9: Dangers of the Sea**

**January 2000**

### **Caleb's POV**

Losing **John** to the hands of **Michael** wasn't just losing a crewmate—it was losing a **brother, a warrior, a piece of myself**.

In crime, **death follows**. Yet, this time, it felt different. **Personal. Raw. Gut-wrenching.**

But leadership meant burying pain. The crew needed direction, and **all eyes were on me**.

*"Set course for Brazil!"* I ordered, pushing aside every emotion clawing at me.

*"Yes, sir!"* the crew responded without hesitation.

I stepped onto the deck, inhaling the crisp night air. **We had escaped.**

Or so we thought.

---

### **Back at Tema Bay**

Michael's frustration **burned** through the air like wildfire.

*"They slipped away!"* an officer muttered.

Michael clenched his fists.

*"We have to bring them to justice!"* another barked.

*"What do you intend to do?"* the chief officer asked, locking eyes with Michael.

*"Hot pursuit,"* Michael said, voice unwavering.

A beat of silence. Then, a nod.

*"You have my consent."*

Michael didn't wait. The chase was on.

---

### **Caleb's POV – Day 2 at Sea**

We were **still in Ghana's waters**, unknowingly.

The sea stretched infinitely, the vast emptiness almost **comforting**—until the **sound came**.

Loud.

Fierce.

Unrelenting.

A **deep, rhythmic pulse** vibrated through the water. I frowned.

*"What is that?"* I muttered, stepping out onto the deck.

Binoculars in hand, I scanned the horizon—and **froze**.

**Michael's patrol boats.**

**Speeding toward us.**

**Weapons armed.**

The voice came **sharp and merciless** through a loudspeaker.

*"Stop the boat! Hand over the stowaways, and you shall not be punished. Failure to comply will result in a hot pursuit—WITH OPEN FIRE!"*

My grip tightened on the binoculars. I **locked eyes** with Michael from a distance.

**Savage determination.**

*"MOVE!"* I roared. *"Don't stop for anything!"*

Engines roared.

The chase began.

---

### **Michael's POV – Pursuit on Open Waters**

For **two days**, I chased them relentlessly.

They had **escaped the terminal**, but **at sea, there was nowhere to hide**—no alleys, no backstreets.

*"Fire!"* I commanded.

Bullets **rained toward them**, the sea erupting in chaos.

*"Stay on them!"* I barked.

**I wouldn't let them slip away again.**

---

### **Caleb's POV – The Third Day**

*"Caleb, we're low on gas!"* the sailor warned.

I cursed.

*"Keep moving!"*

We hadn't accounted for a **hot pursuit lasting this long**—this was **unplanned, chaotic, disastrous**.

The sky **darkened ominously**, the wind picking up.

*"Caleb, the clouds—"*

I ignored it.

*"Just drive!"*

---

### **In the Compartment – Lola's POV**

Below deck, the air was thick—**claustrophobic**.

Lola trembled beside me.

*"It's going to be okay,"* I whispered.

**Even though I wasn't sure I believed it.**

### **The Chase – Night of the Third Day**

The **storm arrived**.

Thunder **cracked** through the sky.

Waves **twisted violently**.

Rain **pounded** the deck.

Michael's voice **pierced through the chaos**.

*"Surrender now, or the storm will take you!"*

I clenched my jaw.

We needed **an escape plan**.

*"Shit!"* the sailor cursed. *"Compass is failing! We're sailing blind!"*

My stomach dropped.

*"Can you keep us moving?"*

*"Barely!"*

I turned to my men.

*"We're diving."*

Their eyes widened.

*"Lifeboats?"*

I nodded.

We slipped into the water **before releasing the lifeboat**, ensuring Michael believed we were still aboard when it capsized.

*"What about the Sundays?"* a crewmember asked.

I cursed under my breath.

*"Just go."*

The moment was **chaos**.

Then—**the monstrous wave.**

The ship **shifted violently**, the sailor **losing control**.

*"Boom."*

The ship **capsized.**

---

### **Michael's POV – The End of the Chase**

The storm raged **against them**, twisting Caleb's boat **off course**.

Then—**the capsize.**

We approached the crash site, scanning for **survivors**.

But there was **nothing left**.

No bodies.

No lifeboats.

No sign of life.

A victory, but a bitter victory.

My jaw tightened.

*"We're heading home,"* I ordered.

Even as I spoke—**something felt wrong**.

But I ignored it.

They were **gone**.

At least, that's what we believed.