The ship's horn blared, a long, resonant note that rolled across the harbor.
The Flying Dragon was making its final approach. Dawn light spilled over the sea as the massive cruise ship glided toward the port. Passengers crowded along the railings, cheering and waving, their excitement a mix of relief and disbelief that the journey was finally coming to an end.
Ethan, however, could only stare, his expression somewhere between helplessness and exhaustion.
He glanced toward the bed, where Amber Zane lay fast asleep. Her breathing was soft and even, her face calm, though faint streaks of dried tears still clung to her lashes.
And him?
Why was it so damn hard to catch a break? he thought, rubbing his temples. What the hell just happened?
After a night of what could only be called chaos, he felt no fatigue at all. In fact, it was Amber who had reached her limit—more than once—drifting between moments of wakefulness and unconsciousness.
