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Colt drove onto a footpath. Dock workers lined the water, hoisting crates and tanks up via pulley. They yelled at him as he passed, and he spared them a couple gunshots--not hitting them, just getting them to flee.

He looked for an area without people. He saw an empty cruise liner and decided to abandon his car in front of it. Hopping the rope and running up the stepped path, he found the entrance shut, so he riddled it with bullet holes and kicked it open.

“Mr. Colt!” came Geoffrey’s not-so-distant voice. “Where are you running, Mr. Colt?! Isn’t it about time we brought this little chase to an end?!”

Colt knew Geoffrey was right. He was out of options. Even if he could somehow steal the boat, it sounded like Geoffrey was already on board. Colt ran for the bow of the ship.

Rows of chairs and small tables surrounded a covered pool. Colt approached the edge of the ship and climbed up over the guard rail. The waters must’ve been a good ten meters below him, and the way they crashed against the hull certainly did not look inviting.

He gathered his courage and jumped.

And he stopped in midair. Pain exploded throughout his body. The red shadow had pierced his chest and leg, holding him in place.

“No, no,” said Geoffrey, turning Colt around to face him. “Let’s not turn this into a swimming competition, Mr. Colt. That would be so tedious.”

The pain was worst in his chest. Colt could feel the shadow there, tearing through muscle and bone, coiling around his heart. He screamed, and the shadow wrapped around his mouth, too.

“Shh. Come on, Mr. Colt. I need you to listen. You can still hear me, can’t you?”

He struggled, tasting blood in his mouth. The pain was maddening, but he was determined to keep his focus until the end. With his right hand, he could still feel his rifle.