The countdown never stopped.
46:41:32
46:41:31
46:41:30
The numbers glowed in brilliant white across every monitor inside the operations room, silently reminding everyone that somewhere beyond the ocean, beyond the storm, and beyond everything they thought they understood…
Susanna Croft was waiting.
Or surviving.
Everyone hoped it was the second.
Nobody dared say the first.
The room had changed.
Hours earlier it had been filled with adrenaline—gunfire, explosions, rescue plans, shouted commands.
Now…
It was quieter.
Not calmer.
Just heavier.
The kind of silence only truth could create.
The rescue of Clara had been successful.
At least on paper.
She was alive.
She was warm.
She had been examined by the ship's medical staff and, aside from bruises, dehydration, and emotional trauma, she was physically unharmed.
Gabriel hadn't left her side once.
Not once.
