Page 149 of Lost Paradise

Foster huffs a laugh, followed by Zane. I can't help but join in, and soon Astro and Byron are laughing too. The captain stares at us as if we've lost the plot, and maybe we have. After what we've been through, a little insanity seems like a well-deserved break.

The laughter eases the tension, a small release of the stress that has bound us tight. For a moment, we’re not stranded survivors but a group of friends united by our shared ordeal and the absurdity of our situation.

The captain, still watching us with a mixture of curiosity and concern, finally speaks up. "You've been through a lot," he says, his voice softer now. "But you're safe here. We'll get you to shore, and the authorities will help you from there."

When our laughter dies down, the captain takes out a packet of cigarettes and offers us one. The smell of tobacco wafts through the air, but it’s the last thing I need right now. “I’m guessing you crazy kids decided to sail across the world, and your yacht capsized?”

We exchange glances, unsure how to respond, preferring silence over revealing too much. Rich kids always fetch good ransoms. If they get my and Eve’s surnames, it could trigger dollar signs even in the best of people.

Eve sits beside me, and I can feel the slight tremor in her hands. I place a reassuring hand on her shoulder, and she looks at me, her eyes filled with gratitude and unspoken fears. We’ve been through hell together, and we’ll get through this too.

“Were there more of you?” he asks.

“Two more,” Foster says quietly. “They didn’t survive.”

The man inhales sharply, flicking the ashes off his cigarette, and stands up.

“Okay,” he says, exhaling a long stream of smoke. “I’ll have one of my men get some food for you. We’re about a day away from any patrolling ship, so I’ll radio in your rescue.”

He looks at Eve, and a fierce protective instinct surges within me. His gaze lingers on her a moment too long, and it sets off alarm bells in my mind. A low, involuntary growl rumbles from mythroat, and the others pick up on it instantly. We subtly close ranks around her, forming a protective semicircle.

There are five of us and six of them. I'm confident we can take over this boat if it comes to that. Each of us is armed, knives hidden in our clothes, ready for whatever might happen. We don’t trust anyone, especially not men who eye our own with that kind of intent.

The captain seems to realize his misstep, his eyes flicking between us and calculating the odds. He knows the numbers aren’t in his favor and clears his throat.

“I’ll need your names to call it in,” the captain says, backing down slightly. His gaze softens as he addresses Eve directly. “Your name, miss?”

I swallow hard, feeling a lump form in my throat.

This is it.

Back to our old lives. I’ll be Jack Bancroft again, and the others will take on their old roles, slipping back into the identities we wore before this ordeal reshaped us.

Eve, always the strongest among us, moves forward slightly. She meets his eyes with a steady, unwavering gaze.

“Olivia Summers. My name is Olivia Summers.”

Chapter 46

Twenty-one months later

The sun dips lower towards the horizon, casting long, amber shadows across the pristine sand. Each grain glistens as if kissed by gold, creating a shimmering blanket that stretches as far as I can see. The Pacific Ocean, vast and majestic, rolls in gentle waves that caress the shore with a rhythmic, soothing sound. The water's surface reflects the kaleidoscope of colors painted across the sky—vivid oranges, deep purples, and hints of pink that blend seamlessly into the azure blue.

Palm trees line the perimeter of the beach, their fronds swaying lightly in the early evening breeze. The leaves rustle, adding a soft whisper to the symphony of nature. Seagulls soar overhead, their calls echoing through the salty air, occasionally diving into the water in search of an evening meal.

Beyond this bar, clusters of smooth, worn rocks jut out into the water, creating natural tidal pools that team with life. Tiny crabs scuttle across the stones while colorful fish dart in and out of the clear, shallow waters. The setting sun casts a warm glow on these rocky outcrops, making them appear almost magical.

Our bar, with its weathered wood and vibrant decorations, feels like a natural extension of the beach. The tiki torches, which we’ll light soon, stand ready to add their flickering light to the ambiance, enhancing the tropical vibe. Solar lanterns hang from the trees and along the bar's edges, waiting to illuminate the night with their soft,inviting glow.

I take a moment to breathe in the beauty around me. The fine sand beneath my feet is warm and comforting, grounding me to this perfect slice of paradise. The scent of the ocean, fresh and invigorating, fills my lungs, mingling with the faint aroma of coconut and lime from the bar.

Looking out at the horizon, where the sky meets the sea in a seamless blend of colors, I feel a deep sense of peace. The world seems to pause in this tranquil moment, leaving only the sound of the waves and the soft murmur of the bar staff behind me. This beachside bar is more than just a place to work; it’s my haven, a spot where the beauty of nature and the joy of shared moments come together.

Byron, carrying the last case of beer, joins me at the edge of the bar. He follows my gaze out to the horizon, and for a moment, we stand together in silent appreciation of the breathtaking view.

"Never gets old, does it?" he murmurs, his voice filled with awe as his hand finds mine.

"Never," I agree, squeezing his hand. "This place... it’s magic."

---