The fishing boat's motor coughed, rattled, then steadied into a low growl that reverberated through the hull. Lin's hands stayed tight on the tiller, guiding the vessel northward into the mist. Behind them, the shoreline was already little more than a smudge of shadows and faint pinpricks of light from the fishing village. The storm had passed inland, but the sea still heaved in long, restless swells, carrying the boat higher and lower like it was nothing more than driftwood.

Keller muttered under his breath, wiping seawater from his beard. "Feels like we're sitting ducks out here."

"We are," Lin said. His voice was quiet, but the truth in it carried like iron. "That's why we stay in the fog."

Min-joon crouched near the bow, a hand pressed against the crate to keep it from sliding. His eyes flicked over the waves as though expecting shadows to rise out of them. "And if they followed us onto the water?"

"They will," Lin said simply. "But the inlet splits ahead. If we reach the northern cut before they close the gap, we'll lose them."

The boat surged over another swell, spray slapping across Lin's face. He blinked the salt away, but his mind was already racing. This water wasn't just dangerous because of pursuit; it was dangerous because it carried memories. He had made this run once before, years ago, in another boat just like this, with men who were either dead or had turned into ghosts haunting the edges of his life.

Keller broke the silence. "What's even in these crates that's worth all this blood?" He nudged the nearest one with his boot. "Weapons? Drugs? Secrets?"

Lin didn't look at him. "Proof."

"Of what?"

"That Jin's empire isn't untouchable."

The words hung heavy in the mist, and for once, Keller didn't push.

A sound cut through the rhythm of the sea—the deep thrum of another motor.

Min-joon's head snapped up. "Starboard."

Out of the fog, faint lights glowed, bobbing with the swell. Another boat. Then another behind it. Their beams cut arcs across the mist, sweeping like searching eyes.

"They're spreading out," Lin muttered. He angled the tiller slightly, steering them closer to the jagged coastline. The cliffs loomed like dark teeth, their bases hammered by waves.

"You're hugging rocks," Keller warned.

"That's the point," Lin said. "Bigger boats can't follow this close."

The enemy vessels pushed forward, their motors snarling louder, more aggressive. One beam swept over the waves and lingered, catching a brief glint off their hull. Shouts rang out in Korean, muffled by the distance but urgent.

"They've seen us," Min-joon said.

"Then we make them regret it," Lin replied.

The first chase began.

The fishing boat leapt forward as Lin pushed the throttle. Spray flew in sheets, soaking them as the prow carved into the swell. Behind, one of the pursuing boats veered to intercept, cutting diagonally to box them against the rocks.

"Rifle!" Lin barked.

Keller swung into action, bracing himself against the gunwale as he lifted the weapon. His first shot cracked into the night, echoing across the water. The tracer flashed red, then clipped the enemy boat's railing in a spray of splinters. The gunmen aboard ducked, then returned fire. Bullets hissed into the water around them, one thudding into the side of their hull with a dull thunk.

"Not built for this kind of fight," Min-joon shouted.

"Neither are they," Lin said.

He swung the tiller hard, skirting dangerously close to the cliffs. For a terrifying moment, the prow missed jagged rock by less than a meter. The sea surged and threw them sideways, but Lin fought the tiller back under control. The pursuing boat wasn't so lucky—it tried to match the maneuver and clipped its stern against the rocks. Wood splintered, and the boat faltered, dropping back in the chase.

"One down," Keller grinned savagely.

"Two more," Lin corrected.

The fog thickened, swallowing the beams of the other boats. Only the growl of engines and the chop of waves told Lin how close they were. He steered toward the inlet he remembered, praying the years hadn't warped his memory.

Min-joon moved closer, shouting over the wind. "Lin—this inlet, are you sure it's navigable in this weather?"

Lin's eyes narrowed. "We'll find out."

A sudden flare cut across the mist—an emergency light fired from one of the enemy boats. It burned red, illuminating the fog in a hellish glow. For an instant, the sea seemed alive with shadows. Then came the rattle of heavy gunfire.

Bullets smacked into the water around them, spraying icy salt. One tore a groove across the wooden bow. Another punched straight through the tarp covering the second crate.

Keller dropped into a crouch, firing back in short bursts. "They're trying to pin us down until reinforcements close in!"

"They won't get the chance," Lin said. He yanked the tiller left, steering them straight into a narrow gap between two jagged rocks. The waves surged violently, crashing on both sides, but the boat shot through with centimeters to spare.

Behind them, the pursuing vessel hesitated—and that was its mistake. The swell smashed it broadside against one of the rocks, shattering wood and flipping the smaller craft into the sea. Shouts echoed briefly before the mist swallowed them.

"Two down," Keller said, his grin fading into something more grim.

"One left," Lin replied. But his eyes were already scanning the fog for the final threat.

The northern cut appeared suddenly, a dark slit in the cliff face. The inlet's mouth was narrow, the water inside calmer but black as oil.

"There," Lin said. He guided the boat toward it, easing the throttle just enough to make the turn. The cliffs swallowed them, the roar of the open sea fading into a muffled hush.

For a moment, it felt like safety.

Then Min-joon's voice cracked the illusion. "They're following."

At the inlet's mouth, a final set of headlights flared. The last enemy boat nosed in, slower but steady, its engine growling like a predator that knew it had cornered prey.

"They'll bottleneck us inside," Keller said.

"Not if we move fast," Lin countered. He opened the throttle again, the fishing boat leaping forward into the winding black channel. The cliffs pressed close on either side, dripping with seawater, the air heavy with salt and mist.

The pursuer followed, its light throwing long, twisted shadows across the rock walls. Gunfire barked, bullets sparking off the cliffs. One ricochet buzzed so close to Lin's ear he felt the heat of it.

"Min-joon!" Lin barked.

The younger man didn't hesitate. He grabbed a flare from the side locker, yanked the cap, and hurled it into the water behind them. It ignited in a blinding red glow, floating on the surface. The sudden glare disoriented their pursuers, and as they tried to adjust course, Lin took the opportunity.

He cut the tiller hard right, aiming for a side passage barely wide enough for their hull. The boat scraped rock, wood groaning, but forced through. The larger pursuing boat tried to follow—too late realizing the gap was too tight.

The crunch of tearing hull echoed like thunder. Shouts carried through the inlet as the vessel lodged against the rocks, water pouring into its side.

Silence followed, broken only by the slap of waves against stone.

Lin slowed the motor, letting the boat drift deeper into the hidden passage. The mist swallowed everything behind them.

Keller let out a long breath and slumped back. "Three down. You're either the luckiest bastard alive or the craziest."

"Both," Min-joon muttered.

Lin didn't smile. His eyes stayed fixed ahead, on the winding channel leading north. He knew this wasn't victory—just survival. Jin would hear of this, and the price would rise. But for now, they were alive, and the crates were safe.

And in this war, that counted for everything.