The dark polished mahogany of the corridor felt less like a luxury finish and more like the side of a casket.

The pain in my scalp was blinding as Flynn dragged me down the short companionway toward the stern doors. I clawed at his wrists, driving my fingernails deep into his flesh, but the adrenaline flowing through his body made him impervious to the pain.

"Aidan! Fiona!" Flynn roared over the sound of the wind howling outside the bulkhead. "GET OUT HERE! SHE KNOWS!"

The salon doors flew open. Aidan and Fiona rushed into the hallway, both of them holding flashlights, their faces turning pale as they saw Flynn covered in blood, dragging me across the carpet like a sack of laundry.

"What happened?!" Fiona shrieked, covering her mouth. "Flynn, your face!"

"She didn't take the drugs!" Flynn spat, hauling me up by my arms and slamming my back against the heavy glass doors that opened onto the aft deck. "She smashed the glass in my face! She knows about the trust! She knows about her parents!"

Aidan’s face hardened instantly. The polite, refined father-in-law vanished, replaced by the ruthless real estate predator who had bankrupted three competitors in Boston.

"Finish it," Aidan ordered, his voice icy and flat. "Now. Before she makes enough noise to wake the rest of the crew."

"Wait!" Fiona gasped, looking around nervously. "Where's the boy? Where's Jackson?"

"I sent him to the bow to check the anchor lines five minutes ago," Aidan said. "The deck is clear. Do it, Flynn!"

Flynn hit the electronic door release.

The heavy glass doors slid open with a hiss, and the full force of the Atlantic storm hit us like a solid wall.

Cold, torrential rain drove into the salon, soaking my nightgown in seconds. The wind roared around the superstructure of the yacht, a high-pitched scream that drowned out every other sound. Twenty feet below the aft deck, the ocean was a churning, black abyss of white-capped waves, rising and falling in massive, terrifying surges.

"Flynn, please!" I screamed, my voice swallowed instantly by the gale. I grabbed the stainless steel frame of the sliding door with both hands, hanging on with every ounce of physical strength I had left. "My father treated you like a son! He gave you everything!"

"Your father is an arrogant old man who sits on three hundred million dollars while better men scrape for crumbs!" Flynn shouted into my ear, his bloody face inches from mine. He grabbed my wrists, one by one, prying my fingers off the steel frame with brutal efficiency. "You were just the key to the vault, Cassandra. And I'm done with the key."

He broke my left hand's grip.

I screamed as he bent my thumb backward until the joint popped. My right hand slipped on the wet metal.

Flynn shoved his palm hard against my chest.

The world tilted backward.

My feet left the teak deck. For one sickening, weightless second, I was airborne, suspended over the raging black ocean, the lights of the Vance Voyager framing Flynn’s bloody, triumphant face against the storm-darkened sky.