Chapter 774:
To him, it was the lesser evil. However, what he didn’t know was that…
At a seaside restaurant, the lights had gone dark. Most patrons had already left for their hotels, leaving only Rylie at the computer. She sat hunched over, scrolling the dark web for any trace of updates.
At midnight, Storm’s avatar blinked online with a message.
“Boss, the Ravenguard pirates have passed along the latest news. The fishing vessel carrying thirty people wasn’t rescued by the admiral. Reports say it was sunk by the East Isles’ Silent Fox, leaving only one survivor.”
Her eyes narrowed, her fingers curling tightly against the desk.
Seeing that she had read the message but remained silent, Storm continued, “From what I found, this reeks of a setup. I tapped into a call from the East Isles Foreign Ministry. They never sent the Silent Fox. Admiral Morgan acted on bad intel, every move based on false reports.
“As it happened, an East Isles sub loaded with munitions was near the fishing boat. At the same time, they caught word of ‘Eshea armed vessels moving fast.’ That tipped them into panic. They mistook the crippled fishing ship for a threat. With communication nearly cut off, they sank it. By the time rescue vessels arrived, it was already too late.”
“Boss, I suspect that Ares Global is the mastermind here. They’re ruthless in the arms trade. We ruined one of their biggest deals, leaving them with warehouses full of unsold weapons and a flood of returns. Now it seems they’ve stirred up this mess to spark war and weaken the Admiral’s standing. I’d say they fear him more than they admit.”
Rylie gave only one reply. “Tell Nightingale to prepare a helicopter.”
By midnight, a modified aircraft fought its way through the wind and landed on the island. Nightingale hurried over, shielding her with an umbrella. “Boss, where are we headed?”
“Close to the Crolens naval base.”
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Brad’s warship was heading straight to the naval base for repairs, and Rylie needed to be there. Thirty lives had been lost to a misjudgment, and she could feel the weight of the pressure bearing down on him.
Her chest tightened with concern. It wasn’t his fault. He had given everything he could.
Since Nightingale’s helicopter couldn’t cross into the restricted zone, they landed nearby and switched to the Owen family’s car. The vehicle sped toward the base. Though it was the middle of the night, the press had already swarmed the port, eager to capture the grim return of the ruined fishing vessel.
At the gate, a guard stepped forward and recognized her. “Miss Owen, do you have clearance?”
She leaned out the window. “I don’t, but please inform your superior. I’m here to service the medical equipment on the rescue ship.”
He frowned. “At this hour?” But then it clicked — everyone knew the Admiral had acknowledged her as his partner. Her real purpose didn’t need to be said aloud.
Besides, the naval medical ships ran on equipment she herself had designed. Her presence carried weight.
The guard quickly made a call, then returned with a nod. “You may pass.”
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.
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