Chapter 33 - The Depths of Betrayal
The ocean surface twenty yards ahead of our bow began to churn into a frothing cauldron of white foam and black water.
A dark, metallic hull broke the surface like a prehistoric leviathan, shedding streams of seawater from its sleek, unmarked superstructure.
It was a tactical submersible, fifty feet long and completely devoid of national markings or registration numbers.
"He brought a private sub into coastal waters," Marcus whispered in disbelief, reaching beneath the dash for his tactical shotgun.
"We can't outrun that thing," Miller groaned, pushing himself upright against the cabin door. "They'll torpedo our rudder."
A high-intensity spotlight snapped on from the conning tower of the vessel, blinding us with an overwhelming cone of white light.
The glare illuminated the interior of our cabin, exposing every scratch, every tear, and every drop of blood on the deck.
Over the external loudspeaker of the submersible, a synthetic voice boomed across the crashing waves.
"Cut your engines and prepare to be boarded. Any resistance will result in the immediate termination of subject Victoria Sterling."
Clara clutched our daughter tighter, her knuckles turning bone white against the pink cotton of the swaddle.
"I won't trade our child's life for my mother's," Clara cried out, her eyes blazing with fierce, maternal fury.
"You don't have to," I said, catching Marcus's eye in the harsh reflection of the spotlight.
Marcus understood instantly; his jaw set in a hard, grim line that reminded me of the father he hated.
"There's an emergency scuttling valve in the engine bay," Marcus said quietly, not looking back at us.
"If we blow the intake, this boat goes down in less than ninety seconds," Miller warned, his voice shaking with pain.
"And they won't shoot if they think their prize is sinking with the hull," I replied, chambering a round into my Glock.
Clara looked at me, understanding the reckless madness of what we were about to attempt in the freezing Atlantic waters.
"We have to jump into the fog before the pressure pulls us under," she said, her voice steadying with grim resolve.
"Take the child and the survival raft at the stern," Marcus commanded, cocking his weapon. "I'll draw their fire from the bridge."
"Marcus, no," Clara plead, reaching out toward her brother. "You won't survive them alone."
"I helped build this nightmare for ten years, Clara," Marcus answered softly, offering her a faint, sorrowful smile. "It's time I paid the bill."
May you like
Before she could protest, Marcus pulled the red safety lever on the bulkhead and slammed his fist down onto the scuttling valve.
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