Chapter 83
Emily Windsor's POV
I couldn't afford to hesitate any longer. Using every ounce of strength, I pushed open the heavy metal door to the bridge.
The scene inside crushed my last shred of hope into dust.
The captain and several senior crew members were slumped over their stations, the eerie glow from the instrument panels illuminating their wide-open eyes, faces frozen in the terror they'd felt in their final moments.
Fatal wounds at the throat—each a single, lethal strike. Clean. Efficient.
The thick metallic scent of blood mingled with the acrid smell of overheated electronics, creating a nauseating miasma.
My stomach churned violently. I couldn't hold it back anymore. Bracing myself against the doorframe, I retched, hard.
Nothing came up except bitter bile that burned my throat.
It was over.
The satellite phone had been smashed to pieces. The radio equipment violently destroyed. Every wire severed at the root.
This was a premeditated massacre. The killer had cut off all contact between this ship and the outside world, transforming it into an isolated steel tomb.
I leaned against the cold wall, stumbling back the way I'd come, my steps unsteady.
Each footfall felt like stepping on cotton. I had no idea where to go.
Back to that room? Back to that blood-soaked man burning with fever and barely conscious?
I didn't dare.
But besides there, where else on this ship was safe?
As I passed the crew corridor where Lawrence and the others were detained, my feet stopped of their own accord.
Jacob.
I still remembered which direction he'd been dragged when they locked him up.
Was he still alive?
Once the thought surfaced, I couldn't suppress it.
I needed a living person—a conscious, living person—to tell me whether all of this was truly happening or just a nightmare.
Gritting my teeth, I followed my memory to find that room.
It was a converted storage closet with a heavy iron door, locked tight, with only a small ventilation window near the top.
The moment I approached, violent pounding erupted from inside. A figure lunged at the door like a madman, pressing against it and staring at me through that narrow gap.
My heart seized. I jerked backward a step.
It was Jacob.
His face still bore the injuries from earlier, his eyes filled with absolute terror, like a wild animal trapped in a cage.
"Emily?" He recognized me, his voice hoarse as if scraped raw with sandpaper.
I forced down the panic gripping my chest, stepped forward again, and through the cold iron door, asked coldly, "Do you know what's happened out here?"
He shook his head blankly, the fear in his eyes deepening. He turned the question back on me. "What happened? What the hell is going on? I heard... I heard so many sounds..."
Seeing his utterly clueless expression, I steeled myself and told him what lay outside in the most concise and brutal terms possible: "Everyone on this ship is dead."
Jacob's pupils shrank to pinpoints.
He looked as though he hadn't understood, or perhaps didn't dare believe it. Several seconds passed before he let out a piercing scream.
"All... all dead?" He shook his head frantically, both hands gripping the gap in the door so tightly his knuckles turned bone-white. "That's impossible. It can't be! Let me out, Emily, please, let me out!"
His terror seemed genuine—the kind of breakdown that only comes when truly facing death.
"What did you hear?" I cut through his wailing, pressing him for answers.
"Screaming... and people begging for mercy..." He trembled like a leaf, words tumbling out incoherently. "So many people... so many gunshots... right outside the door. I couldn't see anything. I was so scared..."
Gunshots.
My heart sank to the depths.
Luke's empty gun and the gunshots Jacob heard—two pieces of a puzzle clicking together seamlessly.
I stared at his face, twisted with fear, and spoke again, my voice devoid of warmth.
"I swear, every word I'm saying is true!" Jacob latched onto me like a drowning man clutching driftwood, pressing his face against the narrow gap, as if trying to squeeze himself through. "Emily, I swear it!"
I looked at his distorted, terror-stricken face and slowly nodded.
Hope flared instantly in Jacob's eyes. He thought I believed him. Thought I would let him out.
"Emily, let me out," he pleaded urgently, his voice trembling with the promise of survival. "I swear I'll turn over a new leaf. I'll never be the same bastard I was before! I... I won't become a cold-blooded murderer like Luke!"
My gaze sharpened, catching the key word in his rambling. "Why do you say it was Luke?"
"I heard it!" Jacob's voice turned shrill, as if he'd finally found an outlet for his panic. "Those people were begging for their lives before they died. They were calling Luke's name—'Mr. Victor, have mercy,' 'Mr. Victor, we were wrong'... I heard it clear as day! It was him. It had to be him who killed everyone!"
I stared at him in silence, something strange and unreadable in my eyes.
Clearly, he misinterpreted my silence as wavering.
Jacob continued his assault on the unconscious man lying elsewhere, trying to drag me fully into his camp.
"Emily, wake up—he's played you!" Jacob's voice dripped with jealousy and venom. "He's insane, a complete savage! Look at this ship—this is his true nature! Nothing good will come from being with him!"
He took a deep breath, seeming to muster every ounce of courage he possessed, and said in what he clearly thought was a heartfelt tone, "Leave him, Emily. Come back to me. I'll give you a happy life. I'll protect you. I swear..."
I couldn't listen anymore. Silently, I took a step back.
My movement cut off the rest of his words.
The wild hope and anticipation froze on his face, replaced by confusion and growing panic. "Emily? What... what are you doing?"
I didn't answer. Instead, I turned and walked down the corridor lined with corpses, found an abandoned padlock in another storage room, and returned.
I held the heavy, rust-covered old lock in my hand and walked back to stand before him.
Under Jacob's disbelieving gaze, I fastened the second lock securely onto the iron door that imprisoned him.
"What are you doing!" He finally grasped what was happening and began slamming against the door like a maniac, the sound reverberating through the corridor. "Emily! Are you insane?! Why won't you believe me?!"
I looked at those desperate eyes peering through the gap, my voice as cold as the steel walls of this ship.
"Because I'd rather trust a blood-soaked Luke than an unscathed you."
With that, I ignored his hysterical curses and pleas, turned, and walked away with finality.