Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Deanna

T he speedboat roared through the dark waters, its engine a steady hum beneath the weight of everything Deanna and Nash had uncovered. The mainland was still a distant blur on the horizon, the moonlight casting silver streaks across the choppy waves. Each second felt like a countdown, ticking away toward the inevitable. Deanna's heart thudded in her chest, her pulse keeping time with the boat's rhythmic bounce over the water.

They were running out of time.

Her mind spun, replaying everything they'd learned—the conspiracy, the betrayal. Professor Hartley, Admiral Broadmore, Fatima's weaponized drones. If they didn't get this information into the right hands soon, the consequences would be catastrophic.

Beside her, Nash was silent, his eyes fixed on the dark horizon ahead. His grip on the wheel was tight, his jaw set with a hard line of determination. He hadn't said much since they'd fled the small coastal village, but Deanna could feel the tension radiating from him. Every fiber of his being was focused on getting them to safety, on making sure they weren't caught before they could deliver the intel to Fitzwallace.

Deanna turned her gaze to the sea, trying to calm the storm inside her. She was no stranger to pressure, to the weight of responsibility. But this—this was different. The stakes weren't just academic or professional. They were life or death.

Nash had taken a satellite phone off Marcus. He pulled it out of his pocket and dialed a number. Deanna held her breath, knowing this would be the moment of truth.

"Fitz? It's Nash. We've got trouble. Big trouble."

"I'm listening," Fitzwallace's voice crackled over the line.

Nash's voice was low and steady, despite the urgency. "We've got evidence of an enormous conspiracy. It goes deep—Deanna's mentor, Professor Hartley is involved, but the real threat is my former commanding officer, Admiral Broadmore. He's pulling the strings, and Fatima Al-Fayed is involved. She's just a tool. I'm convinced they're planning to use covert, stealth drones to disrupt military defenses globally."

Fitz swore under his breath, the gravity of the situation sinking in. "Broadmore? Damn it. That explains a lot. We've been picking up a little chatter here and there, and every time I've tried to dig deeper, I've hit a wall. I didn't think it went this deep. And Broadmore. I didn't see that one coming."

"Neither did I," Nash agreed, his voice grim. "We've got the files, but we need an extraction. Now. We're running out of time."

The line crackled, and for a moment, there was only silence. Deanna's heart raced as she waited, the boat cutting through the water at full speed, the coastline still far away.

Finally, Fitzwallace responded, his voice calm but urgent. "I'm sending you coordinates for an extraction point. It's a secluded cove about fifty miles east of Monaco. You'll need to move fast—my team can get you to the Cerberus safehouse from there. It's secure. You'll be safe."

Deanna exchanged a glance with Nash as he ended the call and quickly pulled up the coordinates on a small GPS device. The extraction point wasn't far, but the sense of danger pressing in around them felt heavier with each passing moment.

"Fitz's team will meet us at the cove," Nash said, his voice tight. "It's our best shot."

Deanna nodded, her pulse racing. "Let's go."

The boat surged forward, skimming over the waves with renewed speed. The wind whipped through Deanna's hair, the salty spray stinging her skin, but she barely noticed. Every second felt like a race against time, the fear of being caught hanging over them like a shadow. Fatima's men were undoubtedly tracking them, and the thought of what might happen if they didn't reach the extraction point in time made her stomach twist.

Taking the satellite phone had been a risk, but they'd needed some way to communicate with the outside world.

The coastline grew closer, the jagged cliffs looming on the horizon. Deanna's heart pounded in her chest, her mind racing through every scenario, every possible outcome. They were so close, but the distance between safety and danger felt razor thin.

"We'll make it," Nash said suddenly, as if sensing her rising fear. His voice was steady, but there was a hardness in his eyes that told her he was prepared for whatever might happen next. "We're almost there."

Deanna wanted to believe him. She wanted to trust that they'd outrun the danger, that Fitz's team would be waiting when they reached the extraction point. But deep down, she knew better. Nothing ever went as smoothly as planned.

As they raced closer to the coast, Deanna's eyes scanned the horizon, searching for any sign of movement. The cliffs loomed larger now, the dark shadows of the cove just visible beyond the rocks.

And then she saw it.

A flash of light. Faint at first, but unmistakable.

Her stomach dropped. "Nash…"

He saw it too. His jaw clenched, his grip tightening on the wheel. "Damn it."

Ahead of them, two speedboats emerged from the shadows, their lights cutting through the darkness, heading straight for them. Fatima's men.

"Hold on," Nash growled, his voice taut with frustration. He slammed the throttle forward, the boat lurching as it picked up speed, cutting through the water like a knife.

Deanna gripped the side of the boat, her heart pounding in her chest as the world seemed to blur around them. The water roared beneath them, the wind screaming in her ears, but all she could focus on was the rapidly closing distance between them and the approaching boats.

"They're gaining on us," Deanna said, her voice tight with fear.

Nash's jaw tightened, his eyes locked on the boats ahead. "We're not letting them get us. Not now."

He swerved the boat sharply, weaving between the rocks as they neared the cliffs. The waves slammed against the hull, sending sprays of water into the air, but Nash kept them steady, his focus unwavering. Deanna clung to the boat, her knuckles white as they shot forward, the boats behind them closing the distance with every second.

The cove was so close now, just beyond the final curve of the cliffs. But the speedboats were almost on them, their engines roaring, the men onboard armed and ready.

"We're not going to make it," Deanna whispered, the fear gripping her throat.

Nash didn't respond. His eyes were hard, his grip tight as he steered the boat into the cove, pushing the engine to its limits. The cliffs loomed overhead, the dark water rushing beneath them.

And then, just as the enemy boats rounded the corner, Nash yanked the wheel hard, sending their boat veering sharply toward the rocks. Deanna screamed as the boat tilted, the force throwing her to the side, but Nash's strong arm caught her, pulling her back to safety as they careened into a narrow passage between the cliffs.

The enemy boats tried to follow, but the rocks were too narrow, too treacherous. Nash's boat scraped against the jagged walls, but they shot through, leaving their pursuers behind.

For a moment, everything was still. The boat slowed as they drifted into the safety of the cove, the sound of the waves lapping gently against the shore. Deanna's heart raced, her breath coming in ragged gasps, but they had made it.

They had survived.

Nash let out a long breath, his hand still gripping hers tightly as they came to a stop in the shallow water. He turned to her, his face grim but filled with quiet relief.

"We're not done yet," he said, his voice low but determined. "But we're one step closer."

Deanna nodded, her chest tightening with a mix of fear and gratitude. They had escaped, but the fight was far from over.

The first crack of thunder and flash of lightning split the sky, unexpected and reverberating through the hull of the boat. Deanna's hands gripped the railing, her knuckles white as she braced herself against the rising wind. The storm had come out of nowhere, a dark, swirling mass of clouds that now blotted out the moon and stars, plunging them into near-total darkness. The once-calm sea had turned into a violent, churning monster, the waves growing taller and more aggressive with each passing moment.

Beside her, Nash was focused, his jaw set, his eyes locked on the horizon—the extraction point—or what little of it he could still see. The storm was closing in fast, and the calm moment they'd shared in the cove was now a distant memory. Now, it was all about survival.

"Hold on!" Nash shouted over the roar of the wind, his hands gripping the wheel tightly as the boat pitched wildly beneath them. The speedboat slammed into the next wave, sending a spray of icy saltwater crashing over the deck. Deanna gasped, her body jolting with the force of the impact.

The storm's fury was relentless, the sky lit up by streaks of lightning that tore through the clouds like cracks in the fabric of the world. The wind howled, lashing at them with merciless force, and Deanna felt the sharp sting of rain biting into her skin. She had never seen anything like it—the sea, once so familiar and comforting, now seemed like a living thing intent on swallowing them whole.

She stumbled toward Nash, gripping the side of the boat for balance as the vessel rocked violently under the assault of another wave. Her heart pounded in her chest, but her mind remained sharp. They couldn't afford to panic now. Not when they were so close.

"What do you need me to do?" she yelled over the wind, her voice barely audible above the storm.

Nash didn't look at her, his eyes still locked on the water ahead. "We need to keep this boat steady! Get to the stern, check the lines, and make sure nothing's coming loose!"

Deanna nodded, adrenaline surging through her as she made her way to the back of the boat. The rain came down in torrents, hammering against her as she fought to stay upright, but she moved with purpose. She wasn't going to let this storm take them down. Not after everything they'd been through.

She reached the stern, her hands working quickly as she checked the lines securing the small cargo they'd stowed earlier. The ropes were soaked, but they held firm, and Deanna breathed a small sigh of relief. She wiped the water from her eyes, her gaze sweeping across the dark horizon. The storm was everywhere—raging and furious—but she could still make out the faint outline of land in the distance. They were close. So close.

"We're almost there!" she called to Nash, her voice straining against the howling wind.

He glanced back at her, his face slick with rain, but his eyes held that same steady determination that had carried them through so many dangerous moments before. "We're going to make it!" he shouted back, though the words were filled more with willpower than certainty.

But even as he spoke, a rogue wave crashed against the side of the boat, sending it careening to the left. Deanna gasped, grabbing onto the railing to keep herself from being thrown overboard. The boat pitched wildly, and for a terrifying moment, she thought they might capsize. But Nash was there—his strong hands guiding the wheel, fighting the storm with every ounce of strength he had.

"We need more speed!" Nash yelled, his voice cutting through the chaos. "We have to push through!"

Deanna scrambled back to the front of the boat, slipping and sliding as the deck shifted beneath her feet. She could feel the boat struggling against the storm, the engine groaning as Nash pushed it to its limits. Her heart was in her throat as she reached him, her hands gripping his arm for support as the boat climbed yet another monstrous wave.

But just as they crested the peak, a flash of light caught her eye—something unnatural, something not from the storm.

"Nash, look!" Deanna shouted, pointing toward the horizon. Her voice was filled with disbelief, but the truth was unmistakable.

In the distance, cutting through the darkness like a blade, the beams of powerful searchlights swept across the water. And behind those lights, the unmistakable silhouette of several military vessels loomed in the storm's chaos, heading directly for them.

Nash's expression hardened instantly. "Damn it. We just can't seem to catch a break."

Deanna's stomach lurched, not from the motion of the boat but from the realization of what they were up against. Admiral Broadmore. They had been found.

"We can't outrun them," Deanna said, panic edging into her voice. "Not in this storm."

Nash's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing as he calculated their next move. "We don't need to outrun them. We need to hold on until Fitz's team gets to us."

The storm raged around them, but now it wasn't just nature they were fighting—it was the full force of Broadmore's operation. Deanna's mind raced. They had faced danger before, but this… this was different. They weren't just targets in a conspiracy anymore. They were the loose ends that Broadmore wanted to tie up for good.

"They're closing in!" Deanna shouted as the lights drew nearer, the roar of the military vessels now audible even over the storm.

Nash nodded, his face grim but resolute. "We're not going down without a fight."

The next few minutes felt like an eternity. The storm raged on, the wind howling and the waves crashing, but the real threat was bearing down on them from the horizon. Deanna's heart pounded as the lights grew closer, their beams cutting through the darkness, and the sheer size of the ships became clear. There were at least three of them, moving in formation, their engines powerful enough to cut through the storm with ease.

Broadmore's forces.

"Nash," Deanna whispered, fear lacing her voice. "What are we going to do?"

Nash's eyes flickered with something fierce, something she'd seen before in the moments when he refused to back down, when he was ready to fight no matter the odds. He looked at her, and for a brief moment, his hand reached out to grip hers, a silent reassurance in the midst of chaos.

"We hold on," he said, his voice low. "We fight."

Deanna swallowed hard, nodding as she tightened her grip on the railing. She didn't know what was going to happen next—whether they would make it out of this alive or if they'd be captured by Broadmore's men before Fitz's team could arrive. But one thing was clear: they were in this together. Whatever happened next, they would face it side by side.

The storm howled around them, the sea thrashing with fury as the military vessels bore down on their position. And as Deanna looked at Nash, his face lit by the flashes of lightning and the searchlights cutting through the storm, she knew they were headed into a battle that would test them both.

As their boat sat in the water, the waves lapping at its side, two enemy boats closed on them, cutting off any means of escape. Nash raised his hands behind his head, locking his fingers.

"Make yourself seem harmless. Don't give them any reason to hurt you. Do what you have to in order to stay alive," he said.

"But…"

"Do it, Deanna. Keep your hands where they can see them. Stay alive. I will come for you."

"What if you're dead?" she whispered.

"Then Cerberus will come. Stay alive."

Deanna raised her arms, mimicking Nash's posture as the enemy vessels bumped the boat on either side.

"She's not a part of this…" Nash started.

One of the men laughed. "The admiral knows differently. We have orders to keep her alive. Your continued existence depends entirely on your good behavior and how useful Dr. Fowler can prove herself to be."

The men transferred them to one of their boats and then scuttled the one she and Nash had been using. As they turned toward the larger vessel in the distance, she wondered how they were going to live through this.