Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Nash

N ash crouched in the shadows just beyond the tree line, his gaze locked on the hidden research facility. The low hum of machinery vibrated through the thick air, and the occasional flash of light from inside the building cut through the jungle's natural darkness. His instincts screamed at him to keep moving, to get as far away from this place as possible before Fatima's men caught up with them. But something tugged at him—something that told him they couldn't afford to leave. Not yet.

They needed more information. What they had stumbled upon wasn't just a routine operation. It was bigger than that. Much bigger. And he knew that the answers to the questions swirling in his mind were inside that facility. If they could figure out what this Hartley and Fatima were involved in, what they were doing with this advanced military tech, they might have a chance to get ahead of Fatima Al-Fayed and the people hunting them.

But getting those answers meant infiltrating the building. And Nash knew exactly how dangerous that was.

He glanced to his right where Deanna knelt beside him, her breathing steady but shallow, her face set in a mask of determination. She hadn't broken yet. Despite the chaos of the last few hours, the fear, the betrayal by someone she clearly trusted—she was holding it together. And not just holding it together. She was keeping up.

The thought came to him unbidden, a flicker of admiration cutting through the tension. Deanna was tougher than he'd given her credit for. Most people in her position would have cracked by now—either collapsing under the weight of their fear or lashing out in panic. But not her. She moved with purpose, following his lead without hesitation, her eyes clear and focused even when everything around them was falling apart.

That same resilience was why he couldn't shake the feeling that she wasn't just a tag-along on this mission. She was an asset. Not only had she survived, but her scientific mind could give them a critical edge in figuring out what was going on inside that facility. She had already proven she wasn't a liability.

But still, Nash's instincts warred with him. His first impulse was to keep her safe, to leave her outside, hidden in the dense jungle while he went inside alone. That was the SEAL in him, the Dom—the man who had spent years putting himself on the front line, protecting others by taking the brunt of the danger himself. It would be easier that way, to clear the building and gather the intel without worrying about someone else. He was trained for this. She wasn't.

Yet, another part of him—the part that had grown to trust her in the short time they'd been together—knew that Deanna wouldn't just sit quietly in the jungle, waiting for him to return. And maybe she shouldn't. Her knowledge could be the key to understanding whatever was hidden in those labs.

And truthfully, she was probably safer with him. At least that way, he could keep an eye on her.

Nash's jaw clenched as he weighed his options, his eyes scanning the building's perimeter. Two guards at the front, standard patrol patterns, no obvious alarm system on the outside. But that didn't mean there weren't other surprises waiting for them inside.

He leaned in close to Deanna, his voice low but firm. "We need to get inside. Whatever they're working on in there—it's connected to those weapons. And to Hartley. You seemed to recognize the name." She nodded. "The more we know, the better we can figure out what the hell is going on."

Deanna's eyes flickered with understanding, but she didn't speak right away. She looked at the building, then back at Nash, as if she could feel the weight of the decision they were about to make. "He was my mentor, but if he's involved in this, I question if I knew him at all. You want to get inside, don't you?"

"Yeah." Nash's voice was tight. "We're not going to get another chance. But it's dangerous."

Her brow furrowed, but there was no hesitation in her voice when she answered. "I'm with you. You lead, I'll follow."

Nash exhaled sharply, half-expecting her response. "Deanna, this isn't just sneaking around. If something goes sideways in there?—"

"I know," she interrupted, her voice steady. "I get it. But you'll need me. If this place is a research facility, there might be things in there that you won't understand, but I will. And Hartley… if he's involved in something, I need to know. I need to see it for myself."

Nash studied her for a moment, his mind racing. She was right. Leaving her outside was a risk too—she could get discovered, or worse, caught by Fatima's men while he was inside. But taking her with him meant trusting her to handle the danger, to move quickly and quietly, to stay calm if things went bad.

Finally, he nodded, the decision settling heavily in his chest. "All right. Stay close and do exactly what I say. No heroics. We get in, find what we need, and get out."

Deanna gave a small nod, her eyes locking onto his. "Got it."

Nash turned his attention back to the facility, his mind already calculating the best entry point. The guards at the front were a problem, but there were always weak spots—places designed to be overlooked. And after years of breaching high-security locations, Nash knew how to find them.

He motioned for Deanna to follow him as they crept along the tree line, moving with the same careful precision he'd drilled into his team back in his SEAL days. The jungle pressed in around them, thick and humid, but Nash's focus was sharp, his senses tuned to every shift in the air, every movement in the shadows.

They reached the far side of the building, where a narrow alley between the facility and the jungle provided some cover. Nash scanned the walls, spotting a vent system near the ground, half-concealed by creeping vines. Perfect.

He knelt beside it, working quickly to pry open the grate with his knife. It gave way with a faint creak, and he pulled it free, motioning for Deanna to crawl inside first. She hesitated for only a second before sliding into the narrow space, her small frame disappearing into the darkness. Nash followed right behind her, his body tense as he pulled the grate back into place.

Inside, the vent was cool, the metal walls pressing close on either side. They moved slowly, carefully, inching forward as the sound of their breathing filled the confined space. Nash could hear the faint hum of machinery below them, a reminder that they were entering a place designed to keep secrets hidden.

After what felt like an eternity, they reached the end of the vent, where another grate led into a dimly lit hallway. Nash carefully peered through the slats, scanning the area for movement. It was quiet. Too quiet.

He glanced back at Deanna, his voice barely a whisper. "Stay low. Follow me."

She nodded, and he pushed the grate free, sliding out into the hallway. The sterile smell of the facility hit him immediately—metal, chemicals, something sharp and unnatural. The walls were lined with security panels and coded doors, but Nash's focus was on finding the labs. That's where the answers would be.

As they moved through the hallway, Nash's mind raced. Whatever they found in this facility—whatever conspiracy Hartley was a part of—was bigger than he had anticipated. And as much as he hated to admit it, he needed Deanna.

And together, they were about to uncover a truth that could get them both killed.

Nash's heart raced as they slipped deeper into the facility, the sterile, fluorescent lights casting harsh shadows on the stark walls. The quiet hum of machinery filled the air, but there was something oppressive about the silence, a tension hanging like a weight just waiting to drop. Every step they took through the narrow hallway felt like another step toward something dangerous—something they couldn't afford to leave behind.

Deanna moved just behind him, her breath shallow but steady, her eyes darting over every detail as they passed. She was sharp, taking in everything with the precision of a scientist, her mind always working. Nash felt a flicker of relief. She was handling this better than he'd anticipated, proving herself more than just an academic out of her depth. She was right where she needed to be.

They reached a secured door at the end of the hallway, and Nash knelt by the panel, pulling a small device from his vest pocket. The lock was high-tech, but nothing he hadn't seen before. With quick, practiced movements, he connected the device to the control panel, waiting as it worked to bypass the security system. Deanna crouched beside him, her eyes glued to the door, waiting for whatever was on the other side.

The door slid open with a soft hiss, revealing a large room lined with monitors, data servers, and terminals. This was it—the nerve center of the facility. The information hub. Nash stepped inside cautiously, scanning the room for any signs of movement before motioning for Deanna to follow.

They moved quickly, Nash covering the entrance while Deanna approached one of the terminals. Her fingers danced over the keyboard, pulling up files faster than Nash could follow. He glanced over his shoulder, every nerve on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Got it," Deanna whispered, her voice filled with a mix of shock and horror. "These files… Nash, they're using advanced marine technology for something way bigger than we thought. They've developed submersible drones, capable of bypassing military defense systems undetected."

Nash frowned, moving closer to the screen as Deanna pulled up schematics. The files detailed the construction of sleek, unmanned underwater vehicles—drones designed to evade sonar and patrol critical areas undetected. But that wasn't all. The next set of files revealed something worse.

"They're planning to weaponize them," Deanna continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "These drones can deliver high-yield explosives… under the radar. No one would see it coming until it was too late."

Nash's blood ran cold. This wasn't just another arms deal. This was something far more dangerous. If these drones were deployed, they could cripple naval fleets and attack coastal cities without warning. The implications were global. And Hartley was involved.

Before Nash could respond, the sound of approaching footsteps broke through the silence. His instincts flared instantly. "We've got company," he muttered, reaching for his knife. "Get those files copied and be ready to move."

Deanna nodded, her fingers flying over the keyboard as she downloaded the info onto a flash drive. Nash moved toward the door, his body tense, every muscle coiled. The footsteps grew louder, more deliberate, echoing down the hallway. Nash's grip on his knife tightened. There was no time to escape quietly now. They were going to have to fight their way out.

The door swung open, and in an instant, Nash was on the move. One of Fatima's mercenaries barreled through, his weapon raised. Nash ducked low, striking fast. His knife flashed in the low light, catching the man off guard as they collided, the force of the impact sending them both crashing into the nearby wall.

The mercenary was strong, his movements brutal and efficient, but Nash's training took over, muscle memory from years as a SEAL guiding him as they grappled. The man made a grab for a gun, aiming for Nash's head, but Nash dodged, driving his elbow into the man's throat with lethal precision. The mercenary staggered but recovered quickly, countering with a vicious punch that sent pain shooting through Nash's ribs.

The room blurred for a second, and suddenly, Nash was back there—back in the jungle on his last mission, his team under fire, his brothers bleeding around him as everything went wrong. He could smell the smoke, feel the heat, hear the cries of his fallen teammates.

But this time, he wasn't going to lose his teammate—Deanna.

Nash roared, slamming the mercenary to the ground. The man struggled, his hands clawing at Nash's arm, but Nash didn't hesitate. With one brutal motion, he drove the knife into the man's chest, the blade sinking deep. The mercenary gasped, his body shuddering before going limp beneath Nash's weight.

For a moment, all Nash could hear was his own ragged breathing, the memories of the past crashing over him like waves. But this wasn't the jungle. This wasn't his team. He was here, in the present, and he'd done what he had to do.

He stood, wiping the blood from his knife, his hands trembling slightly as he turned back to Deanna. Her face was pale, but her eyes were clear.

"I got everything," she whispered, her voice shaking slightly. "Let's go."

Nash nodded, grabbing her hand and pulling her through the door. They moved fast, weaving through the facility as alarms began to blare, signaling that their intrusion had been detected. The hallway echoed with the sounds of approaching reinforcements, but Nash led them down an alternate route, slipping through a side exit and into the jungle.

They ran, the underbrush whipping against their legs as they made their way back to the beach. Nash's mind raced, the images of those files burned into his brain. They had uncovered something catastrophic—something that would have global repercussions if it fell into the wrong hands.

The beach came into view, and Nash's eyes locked onto a Zodiac moored nearby. A gift from their enemies. Perfect.

"Get in and stay low," Nash barked, his breath coming fast as they sprinted across the sand. He jumped into the Zodiac, grabbing the engine's cord and yanking it to life. The small boat sputtered before roaring into action, the propeller kicking up a spray of saltwater as they sped out to sea.

The moment they hit open water, Nash's pulse began to slow. The island grew smaller behind them, the sounds of pursuit fading into the distance. The Zodiac bounced over the waves, the sharp slap of water against the hull steadying his nerves.

Deanna sat beside him, her hair whipping in the wind, her face damp with the spray of the sea. For the first time since they'd fled the facility, she seemed to relax, the tension easing from her body as they sped across the open water. The ocean stretched out endlessly before them, the horizon a soft blur of blue and gray.

Nash glanced over at her, watching as the saltwater spray hit her face, bringing a flicker of something back to her eyes. She seemed to come alive again, the sharpness returning to her gaze as she stared out at the open sea. There was a quiet strength in her now, a resilience that had been tempered by the danger they had faced.

She caught him looking and gave him a small smile, a hint of the woman he had first met shining through the exhaustion. "We're not dead yet," she said, her voice lighter than before.

Nash let out a rough laugh, the tension finally easing from his chest. "Not yet. Let's keep it that way."

The wind whipped around them as the Zodiac bounded over the waves, the water rushing beneath them in a constant, soothing rhythm. They weren't safe yet, but for now, they had a reprieve. For now, they were free.

And as Nash steered the boat toward a distant port, he couldn't help but feel that they had crossed a line—one that would change everything.