Jamie shifted toward the heading Noah had indicated, raising a hand to block the glare. His eyes narrowed—then locked.

Out there, just at the edge of the shimmering horizon, two long, narrow hulls knifed across the water, moving fast and low. Their wakes carved hard white scars into the blue, straight and deliberate.

For a heartbeat, neither man spoke.
“Could be Coast Guard,” Jamie offered, his tone more wish than certainty. “That was quick.”

Noah didn’t look away from the approaching shapes. “They told us three hours.”

Jamie flicked a glance at the flight log, the numbers confirming what he already knew. “We’re still over seventy miles out.”

Their eyes met—no words, just the unspoken understanding that whatever was coming, it wasn’t who they’d been waiting for.