Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Deanna

T he roar of the Zodiac's engine faded into the rhythmic slap of waves against the hull, but the sound couldn't drown out the turmoil inside Deanna. She sat near the bow, her eyes fixed on the distant horizon, but her thoughts were spinning, churning like the waters beneath them. The salt spray stung her face, the cool wind whipping her hair back, but none of it could touch the storm inside her.

Hartley. Professor Hartley.

The name echoed in her mind, tainted now by the weight of what they'd uncovered. The man she had once admired, the man who had guided her career, who had inspired her passion for marine biology, was implicated in something dark, something dangerous. He wasn't just complicit in a conspiracy—he was at the center of it. She had trusted him, believed in his work, and now that trust felt shattered, like glass breaking into a thousand pieces.

It didn't make sense. How could the same man who had dedicated his life to the preservation of marine ecosystems, the man who had mentored her with so much wisdom and patience, be involved in weaponizing technology for nefarious purposes? The files she'd seen in that facility painted a picture far darker than she had ever imagined. Hartley had to be part of this scheme to use advanced marine technology to bypass global security—undetectable underwater drones capable of carrying high-yield explosives to any target, anywhere in the world. The implications were catastrophic.

She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering despite the warmth of the Mediterranean sun overhead. Her body was exhausted, her mind reeling from the weight of the betrayal. Nothing felt solid anymore. Everything she'd thought she knew about her career, about Hartley, about the world, had been turned upside down in a matter of hours.

"Hey."

Nash's voice broke through her thoughts, low and steady, a comforting presence amidst the chaos in her head. He was sitting near the helm, one hand on the controls, the other resting on his thigh as he steered the Zodiac toward a distant port. His eyes were on her, filled with that same quiet intensity she'd come to expect from him.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice rough but tinged with concern.

Deanna blinked, trying to focus, trying to pull herself out of the fog. She wasn't sure how to answer that question. Was she okay? How could anyone be okay after what they'd just been through? After realizing that everything she believed about her mentor was a lie?

"I don't know," she admitted, her voice quieter than she intended. "I just… I don't know how to process all of this. Hartley—he was my mentor, Nash. I've known him for years. He's the reason I even got into this field. How do I reconcile that with what we just saw? How do I make sense of it?"

Nash didn't respond right away, but she could see the weight of her words settling over him, a flicker of understanding in his eyes. He had his own demons, his own betrayals to contend with. She knew that. But he didn't push her to move faster than she was ready for. He just let her speak.

"I looked up to him," she continued, her voice thick with frustration and disbelief. "I trusted him with my career, with my research. And now it feels like… like I don't even know who he is anymore. I don't know what any of it was for."

Nash leaned forward slightly, his hand still on the wheel but his attention fully on her. "Sometimes people we trust end up doing things we never expected," he said quietly. "Doesn't mean you were wrong to trust him back then. It just means he changed—or maybe you're seeing who he's been all along."

Deanna exhaled slowly, the words sinking in. Nash was right, but that didn't make it any easier. She had spent so many years building her career under Hartley's guidance, and now she wasn't sure what any of it meant anymore.

"I just don't understand why he would do this," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "What would drive someone like him to get involved in something like this?"

Nash's gaze darkened, his jaw tightening as if the question hit close to home. "Power. Money. Maybe even fear. There are a lot of reasons people go down dark paths. Sometimes they start off with good intentions and get lost along the way."

Deanna nodded, though her heart still felt heavy. "I just don't know what I'm supposed to do now. I feel like everything I've worked for is… tainted."

Nash's eyes softened slightly, and he shifted closer, his voice low and steady. "You didn't know. You're not responsible for what Hartley did. You're responsible for what you do now—how you move forward. You've already proven you're not afraid to do what's right."

Deanna met his gaze, and for a moment, she felt a flicker of something other than fear, other than betrayal. It was trust. Not the blind trust she'd placed in Hartley, but a different kind of trust. A trust that had been earned in the heat of danger, in the moments when they had fought side by side, relying on each other.

"I guess that's what matters now," she said softly, her voice steadier than before. "What we do next."

Nash gave a slow nod, his eyes still locked on hers. "Yeah. First, we get this intel to the right people. We need to make sure the authorities know what's going on with those drones, and we need to shut it down before Fatima or anyone else can use it."

Deanna let out a slow breath, the weight of their mission settling in. They had uncovered something that could change the course of global security, something that could wreak havoc if it fell into the wrong hands. And now, they had to figure out who to trust with that information.

"And after that?" she asked, glancing out at the endless sea.

Nash was silent for a moment, his expression thoughtful. "After that, we see what's left. Figure out where we go from there."

Deanna looked at him, her chest tightening slightly as she took in the seriousness of his words. Where we go from there. Not where I go, but we. The thought sent a strange warmth through her, something she wasn't ready to examine yet but couldn't ignore.

She shifted her gaze back to the water, watching the way the sunlight glinted off the waves as the Zodiac bounced over the surface. She felt the spray from the sea on her face, cool and sharp, and for the first time since they'd left the island, she felt herself start to relax. It was subtle, but the open sea, the vastness of it, reminded her that the world was bigger than Hartley's betrayal. Bigger than the conspiracy they'd uncovered.

She wondered if there might not be space in that world for something new. Something that wasn't tainted by the past.

As the wind whipped through her hair and the sea spray kissed her skin, Deanna felt the weight of everything they'd uncovered begin to lift, just a little. She wasn't over it. She wasn't ready to forgive. But she was ready to keep moving forward, to take the next step, whatever that might be.

Beside her, Nash sat silent but steady, his presence a grounding force. She knew they still had a long way to go, that the danger wasn't over. But for the first time since they'd set foot on that island, she felt like maybe they could handle it. She linked her hand with his. He glanced down, surprised, but then closed his fingers around hers.

The small coastal fishing village came into view on the horizon, a cluster of weathered buildings perched on the edge of the sea, surrounded by rugged cliffs and rolling waves. The sun was just beginning to dip toward the horizon, casting the sky in hues of gold and pink, but the beauty of the scene was lost on Deanna. She couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had settled in her chest the closer they came to shore.

Beside her, Nash had grown quiet, his eyes scanning the shoreline with a wariness she hadn't seen before. His body, which had been more relaxed on the journey across the water, was now taut with tension, his instincts clearly on high alert. Deanna knew better than to question it. After everything they'd been through, she trusted his judgment completely.

They pulled the Zodiac up to the dock, tying it off quickly before stepping onto solid ground. The village seemed quiet, almost too quiet for a place that should be bustling with fishermen returning from a day at sea. There were a few small boats moored in the harbor, but the streets were eerily empty, save for a few stray cats darting between the weather-beaten buildings.

Deanna's heart raced as they made their way down the narrow dock, her senses on edge. Something didn't feel right. The weight of the conspiracy they'd uncovered still hung over them, and she knew they couldn't afford to let their guard down. But she wasn't prepared for what came next.

They rounded a corner near one of the small fishing shacks when a figure emerged from the shadows—tall, broad, and exuding a quiet menace that made the hair on the back of Deanna's neck stand up. The man stepped forward with a slow, deliberate movement, his face partially obscured by the fading light, but Deanna could see the cruel twist of his lips as he recognized them.

Nash's reaction was immediate, his body tensing as if he'd been struck by a physical blow. He stepped protectively in front of Deanna, his hand instinctively going to the knife at his side.

"Marcus," Nash growled, his voice low and laced with anger.

Deanna's breath caught in her throat. She recognized the name—Marcus. Marcus Reeves. Nash had mentioned him as a former SEAL teammate. But from the way Nash stood, rigid with fury, she knew this wasn't a friendly reunion.

Marcus stepped forward, his grin widening as he glanced between Nash and Deanna. "It's been a while, Nash. Didn't think I'd run into you here of all places."

Nash's eyes were cold, his voice even colder. "I didn't think I'd see you again, especially not working for people like Fatima Al-Fayed."

Marcus shrugged, his tone casual, but his eyes gleamed with malice. "Times change. Loyalty doesn't pay the bills. Besides, Fatima's got big plans. Plans that'll reshape the world. I figured I'd be on the winning side this time."

Deanna's stomach twisted as she watched the exchange. She could see the pain in Nash's eyes, the betrayal that ran deeper than just a teammate switching sides. This was personal. But before she could react, Marcus's hand went to his weapon, the click of the safety disengaging echoing in the air.

"Step aside, Nash," Marcus said smoothly, his gun pointed squarely at Nash's chest. "You know how this ends. Don't make me do it."

Nash didn't flinch. He stared Marcus down, his voice hard as steel. "If you're looking to settle a score, Marcus, let's do it right now. But if you think I'm handing her over to you, you're even more stupid than I thought, which is pretty damn stupid."

Deanna's heart hammered in her chest as she realized what Marcus was after. It wasn't just about Nash—it was about the information they'd uncovered, the files that could unravel everything Fatima was planning. And Marcus wanted to stop them before they could hand it over to the authorities.

For a split second, everything seemed to slow. Deanna's mind raced, adrenaline surging as she tried to figure out how to get out of this. Nash could take Marcus in a fight—she didn't doubt that—but not with a gun pointed at his chest. If Nash moved, Marcus would shoot.

I have to do something.

Deanna shifted slightly behind Nash, her eyes darting toward the dock just a few feet away. There, resting against a stack of fishing nets, was a rusted metal hook attached to a long pole. It wasn't much, but it was something.

She swallowed hard, trying to steady her nerves. "Nash," she whispered, just loud enough for him to hear. "Trust me."

Nash didn't turn, but his jaw tightened, his eyes flickering with uncertainty for the briefest moment before he gave the smallest of nods.

Deanna moved quickly, darting toward the dock and grabbing the hook in one swift motion. Before Marcus could react, she swung the pole hard, the hook catching his wrist and knocking the gun out of his hand with a sharp metallic clang. Marcus let out a grunt of surprise, staggering back just long enough for Nash to close the distance.

In an instant, Nash was on him, the two men colliding in a blur of fists and fury. Deanna's heart pounded as she watched Nash and Marcus grapple, their movements brutal and efficient. Marcus was strong, but Nash moved with a lethal grace, his military training kicking in as he landed blow after blow.

But Marcus fought dirty. He grabbed a handful of sand from the ground and threw it into Nash's face, temporarily blinding him. Deanna's pulse spiked as she watched Nash stumble, but before Marcus could press the advantage, Nash recovered, slamming his fist into Marcus's stomach with enough force to knock the wind out of him.

The fight ended as quickly as it had begun. Nash drove his knee into Marcus's chest, sending him sprawling to the ground, gasping for air. For a moment, everything was still. Then Nash straightened, his breath heavy, his face lined with anger and pain. He glanced down at Marcus, but he didn't strike again. He'd won, and they both knew it.

Deanna ran to Nash's side, her breath catching as she saw the blood dripping from a small cut on his brow. "Are you okay?"

Nash nodded, wiping the blood away with the back of his hand. "I'm fine. We need to move," he said, grabbing Marcus by his shirt collar and dragging him to one of the dilapidated fishing shacks adjacent to the dock.

Propping him up on a barrel, Nash bound Marcus's hands and feet—trussing him up like a Christmas goose. She had to admire the way Nash tied the knots—quickly, beautifully, and efficiently. Given her fascination with the way he tied them and her dream where he'd had her bound to his bed, she had to wonder if bondage wasn't a kink she might want to explore with him.

She shook her head to rid herself of such musings. Here they were in danger, and part of her was far more focused on the future and what might lie ahead for her and Nash after this was all over.