I always believed I could escape any prison. I studied their bones, mapped their flaws, and walked out like a ghost. But this time, I miscalculated.

They took my chip. Drugged me mid-flight. When I woke up, the walls were moving—cells rotating like a goddamn puzzle. No sky. No sun. Just steel, silence, and men in black masks who shoot to kill.

I played along at first. Posing as Portos, gathering intel. Then I saw Drake slit a man’s throat mid-air. That’s when I knew—this wasn’t a test. This was a tomb.

Hobbes looked me in the eye and said, ‘Your book wrote the rules for this place.’ He knew who I was. And he smiled.

Now I’m stuck on a ship in the middle of the Atlantic, working with a man named Rottmayer who claims he can help. But trust is a luxury I can’t afford. Not when every corridor could be a dead end. Not when Clark hasn’t made contact.

I have one chance. One plan. But I need to know—do I go through the flooded lower deck, risking drowning? Or take the ventilation shaft, where one wrong move means falling into a guard patrol?

Time’s running out. The next move is mine.