Arale, however, did not lower his weapon. His eyes never left Adam, sharp and unyielding, reading every flicker of expression. “You seem far too calm for a man at gunpoint,” he growled, suspicion dripping from his words.
Adam forced a thin smile, masking his quickened heartbeat. “Calm men live longer,” he replied evenly. The line, delivered with quiet defiance, only deepened Arale’s unease.
While the two locked eyes, the pirates stuffing their bags grew careless, laughing under their breath at their newfound fortune. That was the moment Adam had been waiting for.
With a sudden motion, he dropped low and slammed his hand against a hidden switch near the crate. Instantly, steel nets sprang from overhead, triggered by the crew’s earlier handiwork. The two distracted pirates were ensnared, their weapons clattering to the floor as the net dragged them down.
Chaos erupted. Arale roared in rage, his AK-47 snapping toward Adam. But Adam had anticipated this. In one fluid movement, he drew the stun gun and fired, the crackle of electricity filling the air. The darts struck Arale’s arm, sending the pirate captain stumbling with a guttural cry.
The remaining pirate, wide-eyed with panic, fumbled to lift his weapon—but Adam’s hidden crew surged from the shadows, overwhelming him before he could fire a single shot.
The cargo hold echoed with the sounds of the scuffle—boots against steel, grunts of resistance, the hiss of restrained breath. Within moments, it was over. The pirates lay subdued, their weapons scattered uselessly on the deck.
Adam, chest heaving but gaze steady, tightened the handcuffs around Arale’s wrists. The once-menacing pirate captain now glared up at him, humiliated, caught in the very trap he had so arrogantly walked into.
Adam’s crew, breathless with adrenaline, looked to their captain. He gave a single nod, the unspoken message clear: the ship was theirs again.