Chapter 136
The dim light at the end of the corridor stretched Sawyer's silhouette into something long and sharply defined.
He stood there with a posture that seemed casual yet carried an unspoken sense of oppression, as if this entire ship existed under his control.
Uri hesitated for only a second before striding toward him. At this point, avoidance served no purpose. If Sawyer had sought him out, he would never let him leave easily.
"Mr. Scott." Uri stopped three paces away, his tone calm. "What can I do for you?"
Sawyer smiled faintly, the expression difficult to read in the murky light. He didn't answer immediately, only turned to push open a door beside him—a private sitting room, elegantly furnished with soft lighting.
"Mr. Noah, please." He gestured in invitation.
Uri drew a deep breath and stepped inside.
The door closed softly behind him.
Only the two of them remained in the room. Sawyer walked to the bar cart, poured two glasses of whiskey, and handed one to Uri.
Uri accepted it but didn't drink, merely held it in his hand, feeling the chill seeping through the glass.
"Mr. Noah," Sawyer settled into the chair opposite him, crossing his legs with the ease of someone in his own living room, "let's not beat around the bush. I want to discuss a deal with you."
Uri didn't respond; he only watched him quietly.
Sawyer seemed unbothered by his silence and continued on his own, "Nightfall's current situation—I'm well aware of it. You've got some reputation in the circle, sure, but at the end of the day, you're just taking contracts for commission. Constantly risking your lives, and the money you earn still has to be split among a whole crew of people. As the leader, you look impressive on the surface, but how much actually ends up in your own pocket?"
His tone carried a condescending pity, as if sympathizing with a laborer who worked hard but earned little.
Uri's brow twitched almost imperceptibly, but he still said nothing.
Sawyer took a sip of his drink and continued. "The Scott family is different. When my father founded Nightfall, it wasn't about making money—it was about building a global intelligence network. Nightfall's real value was never in those commissions, but in the resources and channels it accumulated. Unfortunately..."
He paused, a flicker of coldness passing through his gray eyes. "My father had a moment of foolishness and handed Nightfall over to someone else. All these years, I've been trying to get it back."
His gaze settled on Uri's face with the sharp scrutiny of someone sizing up prey. "Mr. Noah, I know you're just a proxy. The real boss is someone else. But I don't care. All I need is one word from you—are you willing to bring Nightfall back to The Scott family?"
Uri's fingers tightened slightly.
'Return to the Scott family.'
What pretty words. Wasn't he asking him to betray Elizabeth and hand Nightfall over to Sawyer?
"I imagine Mr. Scott's offer isn't small," Uri finally spoke, his voice still steady.
Sawyer smiled, the expression carrying the confidence of someone holding all the cards.
"Of course it's not small." He set down his glass and held up one finger. "First, you personally will receive thirty percent of Nightfall's annual net profit, deposited directly into your private account at Valhalla Bank, bypassing any organizational ledgers."
He raised a second finger. "Second, The Scott family's resources will be fully available to you. Intelligence, connections, funding, force—whatever you need, whenever you need it."
A third finger. "Third, I guarantee your position will only rise, never fall. After Nightfall returns, you'll still be part of core management, and you can even participate in The Scott family's operations in other sectors."
He lowered his hand and leaned back into the sofa, his gaze burning into Uri. "Mr. Noah, are these three conditions sincere enough?"
Uri fell silent for several seconds, his face displaying perfectly calibrated hesitation and inner conflict.
"Mr. Scott's conditions are indeed tempting," he said slowly. "However, this is a major decision. I need time to consider it."
Sawyer's smile deepened, but there was no warmth in it whatsoever.
"Time?" He repeated the word softly, his tone carrying a kind of playful pity. "Mr. Noah, how much time do you think you have left?"
Uri's heart plummeted.
Sawyer stood and walked over to him, looking down from above.
In those gray eyes, there was now no trace of amusement—only a cold, almost cruel certainty.
He spoke each word deliberately, "You need to give me a clear answer tonight."
Uri's expression changed.
"Mr. Scott, this..."
Sawyer cut him off, his voice light as a whisper yet carrying undeniable menace. "Mr. Noah, this ship is my territory. Pacquiao's people, Vincent's people—they're all under my control. Whether Jacob leaves here alive tonight is up to me."
He bent down, leaning close to Uri's ear, and murmured, "As for you, if you can't give me a satisfactory answer tonight, I'm afraid things won't end well for you either."
Uri's spine went rigid.
Sawyer straightened up, stepped back, and his face resumed that elegant smile, as if the previous words had been nothing more than casual conversation.
"I'll give you one hour." He raised his wrist to check his watch. "In one hour, I'll be waiting for your answer."
He turned toward the door. As he pushed it open, without looking back, he added one more thing. "Oh, I almost forgot to tell you. That man called Nolan—even if you win the bid, you won't be taking him anywhere. On this ship, I make the rules."
The door opened, then closed.
Only Uri remained in the room.
He stood there, the hand gripping his glass trembling slightly. After a long moment, he drained the whiskey in one gulp, the liquor burning down his throat like fire.
Sawyer, that lunatic.
He took a deep breath, pushed through the door, and strode quickly toward his own cabin.
Inside the room, Elizabeth had already removed her mask and sat on the sofa by the window, gazing out at the sea. Hearing the door open, she turned her head, and seeing Uri's expression, her brow immediately furrowed.
"What happened?"
"Sawyer came to me," he said, his voice somewhat hoarse. "He made an extremely generous offer for me to bring Nightfall back to The Scott family."
Elizabeth's eyes went cold in an instant.
"Did you agree?"
"I pretended to hesitate." Uri sat down across from her. "But he gave me a one-hour deadline, or else there would be consequences. He also said we won't be able to take Nolan. On this ship, he makes the rules."
Elizabeth's face darkened.
"Sawyer," she said through gritted teeth, spitting out the name. "He really does have a scheme."
Uri looked at her. "Didn't you already make arrangements? Nightfall's people have infiltrated, and the extraction boat is nearby. If it comes to a fight, we might not lose."
Elizabeth was silent for several seconds, then slowly shook her head.
"Those arrangements were in case something went wrong," she said quietly. "But what I really hoped for was that nothing would go wrong."
Uri froze.
He looked at her, at the complex emotion between her brows, and suddenly understood.
She wasn't just Nightfall's leader. She was also Jacob's fiancée, the woman who would marry him in three days. She wanted this cruise to end peacefully, wanted Jacob to get the leads he was after, wanted everyone to return home alive.
She wanted nothing to go wrong.
But reality was that Sawyer wouldn't let them have their way.
Uri was silent for a moment, then suddenly let out a soft sigh.
"Noel," he began, his voice carrying an unprecedented seriousness, "I didn't follow the wrong person."
Elizabeth looked up at him.
Uri smiled, the expression tinged with relief and gratitude.
"Sawyer is a lunatic," he said, his tone carrying undisguised disgust. "No matter how good his offer is, I have no interest in working for a madman. By comparison, a rational boss who looks out for their people is far more reliable."
He paused, stood up, walked over to Elizabeth, and solemnly extended his hand. "So, Noel, whatever hard battles lie ahead, I'll fight them with you."
Elizabeth looked at him, at those eyes behind his gold-rimmed glasses that were now utterly sincere, and suddenly felt warmth spread through her chest.
She reached out and clasped his hand.
"Alright," she said, her voice soft but utterly firm. "Then let's fight together."