Chapter 556

Vincent raised his eyes, but a bustling crowd blocked his view.All he caught was the fleeting hem of a dress, yet he was certain a woman had just ascended the stairs.

Vincent battled the overwhelming impulse to pursue her and confirm his suspicions. Upstairs... The cruise ship boasted several decks above. What if Hannah was truly here? No way!A chilling inner voice sliced through his thoughts. She'd better not be here.

This ship was a perilous place; every second she spent here would be fraught with danger and torment. He'd prefer she were anywhere else-somewhere safer. Hope and fear waged war within him.

Ultimately, Vincent pushed his chips across the table, rising from the gambling table with an impassive expression, as though merely bored. His men trailed him as he exited.

Once back aboard the Windchaser, Vincent issued a sharp command. "Scrutinize that ship. I want its blueprints, crew roster, and activity logs-especially for the lower deck and every upper guest cabin. I need all details as quickly as possible."

In the control room, the technical supervisor projected the compiled data onto a large screen. "Mr. Jones, we've investigated. That ship, named the Odin, isn't just a gambling hub-it's a front for smuggling, money laundering, and human trafficking, run by an international crime syndicate. Its security is exceptional, armed with heavy weaponry."

One of Vincent's subordinates at the back whispered to his colleague, eyes fixed on the screen, "If Ms. Scott is really in a nlace like that, I fear..."

He trailed off, but the implication was unmistakable. In such a treacherous den, a beautiful woman likely faced only two grim fates: becoming a tortured plaything or being dismantled and sold like countless others.

Though the subordinate's voice was hushed, it reached Vincent's ears. HHis gaze turned cold, pinning the subordinate with a menacing stare that drained the subordinate's face of color.

"I-I am sorry, Mr. Jones! I spoke out of turn!" the subordinate stammered,bowing his head in a frantic apology.

Vincent remained silent for a moment, his cold stare on the subordinate, before he finally spoke. "Tomorrow, he's no longer needed here. Send him away."

"Understood," replied Nate Duncan, Vincent's trusted assistant,who promptly signaled for the subordinate to be escorted out.

A heavy silence enveloped the control room, the air thick with tension as no one dared to breathe too loudly.

Vincent's eyes returned to the Odin's blueprint, his jaw clenched tightly. How could he not understand the implication?Every lead suggesting Hannah meeting a tragic fate felt like a smoldering ember in his chest. Yet, he refused to let such uncertainty consume his rationality. He had to see for himself,if only to eliminate the possibility she wasn't there. Without witnessing it with his own eyes, he'd never give up his efforts.

"Nate," Vincent's voice was low, resolute.

"Mr. Jones," Nate responded, bowing his head.

"Two days. I want everyone to memorize Odin's layout down to the last detail. Then, on the third day, we'll board as gangsters,arming ourselves to the teeth and donning disguises-beards and altered appearance." Vincent issued his orders with precision. "No one acts without my command. Our only goal is

precision. "No one acts without my command. Our only goal is to confirm if Hannah is on board. Before boarding Odin,monitor any news about it in the coming days."

"Understood. I'll arrange it immediately," Nate replied, turning to execute the plan.

Meanwhile, on Odin's third deck, Hannah stood gazing over the railing. She'd been making subtle moves lately; perhaps in a few days, Brixton would have no choice but to let her disembark.

Just then, steady footsteps approached from behind. Without turning, she knew it was Brixton.

Brixton stood beside her, silent for a moment before speaking."You've been awfully quiet lately."

Hannah kept her eyes on the horizon. "The more I say, the more guilty I am in your eyes. I'd rather stay silent."

Brixton let out a soft chuckle. "That doesn't sound like the Hannah I know."

In his memory, she was vibrant, but recently, she'd grown unnervingly quiet.

"This is the real me," Hannah replied evenly.

A brief silence settled between them.

Abruptly, Brixton said, "You haven't mentioned wanting to leave in a while." His gaze narrowed to search her face.

Hannah's heart skipped a beat, though her face remained impassive. She even managed a wry smile. "I'm just a hostage here. Do I really get a say? Whether I want to or not, does it change anything?"

Brixton laughed, amused by her response. "You clearly know your place."

Hannah resisted the urge to roll her eyes, maintaining her

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Hannah resisted the urge to roll her eyes, maintaining her composed facade.

Suddenly, Brixton pulled something from his pocket and held it out to her-a peacock-shaped hairpin studded with red gemstones.

Hannah's brow furrowed in confusion. "What's this?"

"Scorpio took it from a woman on the second deck," Brixton said casually. "You're the only woman on the third deck, so it's yours."

Hannah's mind flashed to the horrors of the second deck that day, her stomach twisting. The hairpin likely belonged to a woman who'd met a gruesome end. She stepped back instinctively, shaking her head. "I don't want it."

Brixton's smnile vanished, his eyes turning cold as ice. "I have this little rule-when I say something, you'd better take it.Otherwise, I don't mind spilling blood for sport."