The salty breeze whipped through your hair as you and John B sped away from the island, hearts still pounding from the narrow escape. The sound of sirens had faded into the distance, but the adrenaline was still coursing through your veins. Every breath felt electric as you both raced toward the next clue—another piece of the puzzle that could finally lead to the gold. Just as you thought you had a moment to breathe, a group of figures emerged from the shadows ahead. You recognized them instantly—the same people who had been hunting for the treasure. John B slammed on the brakes. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath. There was no time to react. The leader of the group smirked before pulling out a gun. “Thought you could just take the gold and run?”

Chaos erupted. They charged at you, fists flying, shouts echoing through the night. You threw a punch, your knuckles connecting with someone’s jaw. John B tackled another, wrestling him to the ground. But then—a deafening crack split the air. Gunshots. You barely had time to react before John B grabbed your arm and yanked you toward the car. “Go! GO!” he shouted, shoving you into the passenger seat as bullets whizzed past, shattering glass and kicking up dirt. The tires screeched against the pavement as John B floored the gas, the engine roaring in protest. Your hands trembled as you gripped the dashboard, still processing what had just happened. Your pulse was hammering in your ears, drowning out everything else—until you felt it. A slow, creeping pain spread through your stomach, dull at first but quickly intensifying into something sharp and unbearable. Your breath hitched. With a shaking hand, you pressed against your torso—and felt something warm and sticky. You looked down. Blood. “John B…” Your voice was weaker than you intended, barely above a whisper. ”What?!” He snapped, eyes locked on the road, trying to put as much distance as possible between you and the gunmen.