Page 17 of Captivating Nash

Deanna’s stomach twisted as she realized the gravity of the situation. This wasn’t just a wrecked ship. They had stumbled onto something far more dangerous. Her scientific curiosity, which had flared so brightly just moments ago, was now overshadowed by a growing sense of dread.

Nash moved quickly, his military training taking over as he guided her back toward the tree line. His voice was calm but firm. "We’re not alone here, Deanna. Whoever scuttled that ship, they’ll be back. And I don’t intend to be here when they return."

As they retreated from the cove, Deanna’s mind raced, a thousand questions swirling in her head. But one thing was clear: whatever they had found, it had pulled them into something far more dangerous than either of them had anticipated.

And Nash, with his steely resolve and instincts sharpened by years of combat, was the only thing standing between them and whatever was coming next.

Chapter Seven

Nash

Nash’s heart pounded as he stared down at the cache of advanced weaponry. The rifles, sleek and deadly, gleamed in the faint sunlight filtering through the canopy of trees surrounding the hidden cove. Each piece of gear was military-grade, more advanced than anything he’d seen in standard combat zones. His gut twisted with the recognition—this wasn’t supposed to exist outside top-secret, high-security research facilities.

His mind raced. These weren’t just black-market weapons. This was cutting-edge tech, the kind of equipment he’d only heard about in whispers during his time as a SEAL, when classified intel hinted at developments no one was supposed to know about. For it to be here, abandoned on a remote island in the Mediterranean? It didn’t make sense. It screamed danger in a way nothing else had.

How the hell did this end up here?

Nash turned slowly, his eyes scanning the tree line, every instinct in his body screaming that they needed to move. Fast. His breath was steady, but underneath, adrenaline surged, sharpening his senses to a razor’s edge. Whoever had scuttled this ship—whoever had left these weapons behind wouldn’t be planning to leave them, and they wouldn’t be far.

“Deanna,” he said, his voice tight, “we need to go. Now.”

Deanna, still standing beside the cache, looked up at him, her expression shifting from curious to concerned as she absorbed the urgency in his voice. “What is it? What are these?”

“Classified,” Nash snapped, glancing at the wrecked hull one last time before stepping toward her. He grabbed her arm, gently but firmly, pulling her away from the pile of debris. “Weapons that shouldn’t even exist outside a black site. We can’t stay here.”

“But—” Deanna started, her curiosity still flaring, but Nash cut her off, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“This isn’t some shipwreck we stumbled on. These weapons belong to people who don’t play nice and don’t play by the rules. They won’t let us just walk away.”

The words hung heavy between them, the realization sinking in. Deanna’s eyes widened, and she nodded, fear flickering across her features as she moved in step with him.

They left the cove behind, but the sense of danger followed, thickening the air with every step they took. Nash’s mind was in overdrive, his military instincts taking over as they made their way through the dense jungle that separated them fromThe Reverie.Every snap of a twig, every rustle of leaves, made his muscles tighten, ready to spring into action.

The island, once so still and quiet, now felt alive with threat. Like unseen eyes were watching them from the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Nash didn’t look back, but he could feel it—the weight of danger closing in, unseen but unmistakable. They were being watched and probably even hunted. Or worse—they were already cornered, and just didn’t know it yet.

He kept Deanna close, his grip on her arm firm as they picked up the pace, moving quickly but carefully through the underbrush. The terrain was rough, uneven, but Nash barely noticed. His mind was already running through scenarios—ways to protect her, ways to get them back to the boat, ways to fend off an ambush if it came to that.

His senses were sharp, hyper-aware of the forest around them. The sun was starting to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows through the trees, making everything feel more ominous. The thick canopy above blocked most of the light, plunging the path ahead into a dim twilight. It felt like the jungle was closing in on them.

Nash’s heart hammered in his chest as they moved swiftly toward the shoreline. His hand instinctively rested on the hilt of the knife strapped to his side, his fingers itching for reassurance that he had something—anything—to defend them if the worst happened.

Deanna was quiet beside him, her earlier curiosity muted now by the growing fear. He could feel the tension in her, the way her steps had become more deliberate, more cautious. She trusted him; he knew that, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t scared. Hell, he was scared too—scared in the way only a man who had been in too many firefights to count could be.

They were almost at the edge of the jungle when Nash heard it.

A low, distant sound. The crunch of boots on gravel. He stopped dead in his tracks, holding up a hand to halt Deanna. His body went rigid, his head snapping toward the sound. The jungle was still, but the noise had been real. They weren’t alone.

“Stay behind me,” he whispered, barely audible.

Deanna froze, her breath catching in her throat as she did exactly as he said, moving behind him but staying close. Nash crouched slightly, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the thick brush ahead. The path to the beach was just beyond the next rise, but between them and safety was the distinct possibility of danger.

He crouched lower, motioning for Deanna to do the same. Every second felt like an eternity as he strained to listen. The sound had stopped, but that didn’t mean whoever—or whatever—was out there had gone.

Nash’s mind ran through the possibilities. Mercenaries? Arms dealers? Terrorists? Some shadowy group with access to classified tech? Whoever they were, they wouldn’t hesitate to kill to protect the cache of weapons. His pulse quickened, but his thoughts stayed focused.

“We’re going to make a break for the beach,” he whispered, his voice low and controlled. “Once we’re out in the open, run straight for the boat. Don’t look back. Got it?”

Deanna nodded. He could see the fear in her, but there was also trust. Trust was dangerous. Trust got people killed.

---