Mara listened without interrupting as Elias described the drones, the empty nets, the council’s silence, and Lila’s video. When he finished, he admitted, in a low voice, that he had considered cutting every mooring line in the harbor and letting the tide decide.
Mara’s face changed so sharply he almost smiled. “Do that,” she said, “and they will take your boat, your cabin, and whatever pride you have left. You cannot touch their property, Elias. Not a rope. Not a cleat. Not a polished little cup holder.”