The sweet scent of almonds was no longer a hint; it was a physical weight. It settled in the back of my throat like liquid lead, turning every breath into a jagged scrape against my lungs. Around me, the lounge of the Siren's Call was vanishing behind a veil of white mist, the red emergency lights turning the gas into a pulsing, bloody fog.
I looked at the screen one last time. Chloe was down. Marcus was nowhere to be seen on the grainy feed. My heart felt like it had been ripped out of my chest and trampled on the deck of this godforsaken boat.
"Boss... I can't... I can't see the keys..."
