Before Felicia could express her disdain, a small, exquisitely crafted throwing knife whizzed through the air, heading straight for Pete. Had he not reacted swiftly, the blade would have pierced his eye. The sharp edge grazed his face, leaving a thin, bloody mark. Stephan himself had thrown the knife.
Calmly, he handed Felicia a freshly peeled apple. She took a bite, finding the sweet, crisp taste surprisingly pleasant. The irritation sparked by Pete's shameless words vanished entirely. She sat back, uninterested in acknowledging him further.
Pete, narrowly avoided a stabbing moments before, immediately toned down his arrogance. He dared not speak another word, though resentment and anger boiled within him.
On deck, Stanley lowered his voice, asking, "Mr. Russell, do you want to take care of him now?" Pete had plotted against them repeatedly, each attempt warranting his death. Stephan would never let him escape alive. But they were at sea, and more pressing matters demanded attention—Maurice's situation. Pete's death was inevitable, but would follow.
Stephan cast a casual glance at Stanley; that was enough. Stanley replied, "Got it, Mr. Russell. Leave it to me. Once we reach our destination, I'll make sure…"
Next to them, Felicia blinked, feigning ignorance of their conversation.
Just then, the already dark sky grew even gloomier. Thick storm clouds rolled in, and streaks of lightning slashed across the sky, brilliant and menacing. A crew member hurried over, shouting, "Mr. Russell, ma'am, a heavy storm is coming!" Before he finished, large raindrops began to pour down.
The crew, experienced as they were, had predicted smooth sailing based on studied weather conditions. There were no indications of a storm, let alone one of this severity. Yet they were wrong. This wasn't just a heavy storm—it was a full-blown thunderstorm, accompanied by the early signs of a hurricane.
Rain pounded the deck, lightning flashed, and the vast sea churned violently, as though something massive were about to emerge from the depths. Felicia and Stephan exchanged glances but remained where they stood.
The commotion was so great that even Maurice's men rushed out. In the face of such uncontrolled forces of nature, human beings seemed small and insignificant; all were gripped by instinctive fear. Maurice's men, clearly never having witnessed anything like this, were terrified, especially being in the middle of the deep sea. What if a rogue wave struck? A whirlpool? If the ship went down… the thought paled their faces. But a small shred of relief remained—they weren't on their original ship. On Stephan's high-grade vessel, with its size and reinforced structure, they had a better chance of survival. Everyone clung to this belief until the unthinkable happened.
The sea surged violently; a few nautical miles away, the water began spiraling downward. A whirlpool was forming.
The crew member cried out in panic, "Start the engines! We need to get away! The vortex's pull is too strong. If we're caught, it'll be disastrous!"
Felicia scanned the area, a strange feeling creeping into her chest. This part of the ocean was a no-man's-land. Hardly any ships ever passed through; it was isolated, governed by its own strange magnetic field. Despite knowing nothing about this place, an eerie certainty settled over her—they weren't escaping.