Dumped My Cheating Ex. Now I'm Sleeping Next to a Billionaire CEO novel Chapter 1276

Just as the bald guy’s filthy hand ripped through Sylvia’s thin sunshirt and he was about to pin her down, a deafening roar suddenly split the air. It was so loud it even drowned out the sound of the crashing waves.

“Get away from her!”

The shout came with the wild snarl of an engine. A black and red jet ski burst through the surf, barreling right onto the sand. Its special tires gripped the beach as it tore forward, charging straight at the group like some kind of crazed animal.

“Shit, someone’s here!”

Two men jumped forward but got slammed by the jet ski’s front end. They flew, landing hard in piles of rocks and sand off to the side.

Steve didn’t waste a second. He slammed on the brakes, barely even waiting for the machine to stop before he leapt off. He landed hard, then kicked the bald man off Sylvia with a force that didn’t match his usual privileged-rich-boy vibe.

“Sylvia!” He dropped beside her and hauled her up, scanning her quickly. When he saw her torn sunshirt and the exposed, pale skin beneath, his eyes darkened with a killing rage. He yanked off his own Hawaiian shirt and threw it around her shoulders, voice tight and urgent.

“Put this on. Don’t just stand there.”

Sylvia was shaking all over. Her fingers wouldn’t work, so she just clung to the shirt, pressing it against her chest. Her teeth were chattering. Huge tears rolled down her face and her voice was barely more than a whisper.

“Steve... there’s a bomb... they put a bomb on the cruise ship...”

Steve kept his eyes sharp on their surroundings, but when her words registered, his gaze snapped back. His pupils shrank.

Sylvia’s voice was rising, desperate. “They’re going to sink the GlowOcean!”

A cold jolt shot through Steve. Suddenly everything was on the line.

“Get on. Now.”

He grabbed Sylvia by the waist, already steering her toward the jet ski. But the scattered mercenaries were regrouping fast, closing in from all sides. One with a thick beard pulled a pistol from his waistband, but his companion grabbed his arm, voice low and urgent.

“You crazy? No shooting, or the patrol boats will come!”

In that split second, Sylvia’s mind went blank. Steve let out a strangled grunt, his face turning ghostly pale, but he didn’t stop. Bracing against the pain, he spun and kicked the attacker straight in the chest.

“Move!”

He gritted his teeth, dragging Sylvia back with him toward the jet ski. The rest of the mercenaries rushed in, knives gleaming, striking to kill.

Steve could feel his strength fading. He scooped Sylvia up and dropped her into the driver’s seat.

“You know how to work this, right?!”

He gasped for air, hands flat on the jet ski, bright blood running down his bare back, pooling on the seat. Sylvia saw his wound—a deep, raw gash that looked like it nearly went to the bone. She shook even harder, eyes full of panic and tears.

Steve turned, blocking another knife with his forearm and earning a fresh cut. As he fought to hold the attackers back, he twisted to yell at Sylvia.

“Go get help! Now!”