THIRD PERSON POINT OF VIEW
"ARGH! You'll get nothing out of me—ahh!"
The raw, cracking shout echoes through the hull of the massive yacht, drifting miles out from the island, far beyond earshot of anyone but the men aboard. The man screaming is tied tight to a chair, blood seeping down his skin, and no one is coming to save him.
"Ahh! F*ck! You really wanna put a bullet in me right here, don't you?" Snapped one of the others, holding up a phone with its flashlight beam cutting through the intentional darkness. They'd kept the whole vessel pitch black for their own reasons.
"Should we just end this motherf*cker now?" Growled a second man, hefting a .45 and pressing the barrel mockingly to the captive's temple. The tied man didn't even flinch, no trace of fear on his face.
"I'm calling the boss. It's his call." A third cut in, stopping them before they could act.
The man with the phone snickered. "Yeah! Hurry up—we only got three hours left to sleep."
