Chapter 2 - The Satellite Distress Beacon
I dragged my numb limbs inch by agonizing inch back along the carpeted corridor.
Every nerve in my body begged me to surrender to the narcotics, but the vision of my parents crashing down an icy ravine in Colorado kept my heart pumping pure adrenaline.
I slipped back into the master suite, locking the bathroom door behind me with the faintest metallic click.
I jammed two fingers down my throat over the porcelain sink.
I gagged violently, vomiting the drugged cream soup and undigested white residue until my stomach convulsed empty. I splashed freezing saltwater over my burning face, scrubbing my skin until my vision sharpened from blurry grey to crystal clarity.
I opened the hidden vanity panel behind the mirror—a secret compartment my father had built into every vessel in the Sterling fleet.
Inside lay an encrypted maritime satellite communicator and a micro-voice recorder.
I powered on the device, dialing the direct red line to my older brother, Gabriel Sterling, Commander of the Sterling Global Maritime Tactical Vanguard.
The connection beeped once.
"Gabriel," I whispered, my voice trembling with suppressed fury.
"Elena? Where are you? The yacht's primary GPS transponder went dark four hours ago," Gabriel’s deep baritone cut through the speaker with immediate alarm.
"Flynn and his parents have drugged me, Gabriel," I whispered, speaking fast as footsteps murmured on the outer deck. "They plan to throw me over the aft railing during the midnight squall to claim my three-hundred-million-dollar trust. And Flynn has hired mercenaries to sabotage Dad’s car in Aspen next week."
A beat of terrifying, glacial silence fell over the satellite link.
"Where is the yacht right now, Evie?" Gabriel asked, his voice dropping into a register of cold, absolute military wrath.
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"Thirty nautical miles southwest of Saint Martin," I replied. "Coordinates 17°54'N, 63°12'W."
"Listen to me carefully, little sister," Gabriel commanded softly. "Do not fight him on that deck. Play the helpless, drugged victim. Under your bed is the carbon-fiber thermal flotation vest and the magnetic strobe beacon. Put it on under your nightgown. At 00:00, my stealth interceptor will be two hundred yards off your stern."
