His fake wife, their real obsession
"Commander, the lead mercenary vessel is hailing us on the open channel."
Zane stepped up to the primary comms console, his massive frame anchored firmly against the rolling deck. He wore a dark tactical vest over his storm gear, his jaw set in a line of absolute, murderous steel. He keyed the mic, his baritone voice dropping into a register that cut straight through the radio static.
"This is Zane Vance-Cross, commanding officer of L.V. Global Maritime Security," he growled. "You are harassing commercial vessels in international waters. Power down your engines and drop your boarding gear immediately, or we will clear these waters by force."