Martin's mind raced as he felt the sting of pain intensify in his shoulder.
With every movement, the knife wound sent sharp jolts through his body, reminding him that time was running short.
He knew the situation was growing worse by the minute—the sound of fighting echoed from all sides of the yacht, and Leon's agonized scream from the corridor sent a clear message.
They were at a serious disadvantage, and the longer they stayed, the more dire the situation would become.
"We need to move," Martin muttered through gritted teeth, his voice low but resolute. He staggered over to the nearest curtain, ripping it down and using it to bandage his wounded shoulder.
His hands were shaky from the pain, but his determination didn't waver.
Emilia, still pale and trembling from the chaos that had overtaken her life, knelt beside him, silently helping with the makeshift bandage.
