The boat cut through the night, the engine humming steadily beneath them, a constant reminder of the distance growing between the life they knew and whatever waited for them at Paradisum. Mia sat against the side railing, the cold metal biting into her back, the sea stretching endlessly into the dark. The night felt surreal—just them, the boat, and the water. It was a moment that shouldn't exist, like they'd slipped into the space between reality and a nightmare.
Everyone had fallen into their own brand of silence. Ramirez stood at the bow, her eyes pinned on the horizon, every muscle in her body radiating focus. Matt was at the wheel, navigating with quiet precision, the tension in his posture sharp as glass. Grant and Sarah were huddled near the gear, whispering about something Mia couldn't hear, their heads close together.
