Spray slammed against the windows. Inside the cockpit, tension coiled like a wire ready to snap. Noah gripped the throttles with white knuckles. “This isn’t working. We’re crawling. Eight knots. Maybe.” Jamie’s eyes darted from the radar to the horizon and back again.
“They’re moving at least twice that. Maybe more. God—look at them.” Noah didn’t need to. He could hear it now—a low, rising growl in the distance. Boat engines. Two of them. Closing in. “They’re not hesitating,” Jamie muttered. “They’re coming straight for us.”