The sun hung high in the sky, casting a golden glow over the shoreline as Isla stumbled onto the sand, her heart still racing from the chaos they had just escaped. The gentle breeze carried the scent of salt and seaweed, mingling with the sharp tang of fear that still lingered in her throat.
The salty water dripped from her hair and clothes, creating dark patches in the sand beneath her feet, but it was the chill of despair that gripped her heart. She turned to Ken, who was still catching his breath beside her, his expression a mix of anger and frustration. His usually neat dark hair was plastered to his forehead, and his clothes clung to his muscular frame, a reminder of their failed rescue attempt.
"We could have done something, Ken!" Isla's voice trembled, the weight of their failure crashing down on her like the relentless waves. Her fingers dug into her palms, leaving crescent-shaped marks. "We could have saved her! We just stood there while he took her!"
Ken shook his head, his
