Page 21 of Captivating Nash

And then, there was the fear. It wasn’t the kind of fear she had known before—simple anxieties or the occasional bout of nerves. This was a raw, visceral thing, a feeling that wrapped around her chest like a vice, threatening to take her breath away. But she kept it at bay, forcing it down every time it tried to claw its way to the surface. Because if she gave in now, if she let fear take control, she’d fall behind. And falling behind wasn’t an option.

Nash slowed for a brief moment, crouching behind a large tree, his body still as he listened for sounds of pursuit. Deanna moved beside him, crouching low, her legs shaking slightly from the adrenaline still coursing through her. She stole a glance at Nash, her breath catching as she saw the tension in his face, the hard lines of his jaw. His eyes were scanning the tree line, every muscle coiled tight, ready to react at a moment’s notice.

He’s concerned.

It struck her then just how serious this situation really was. Nash, for all his calm, his control, was worried. It wasn’t something he showed easily, but she could see it now—the way his shoulders were rigid, the way his fingers flexed around the hilt of his knife. They were in real danger. And as much as Nash tried to protect her, and as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t control everything.

She took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart. The jungle closed in around them, the sounds of distant movement sending fresh surges of panic through her veins. But she pushed it down again, focusing on the here and now. She was still moving, still breathing. And so was Nash.

He turned his head, catching her gaze. For a moment, there was something unspoken between them—an acknowledgment of the fear, the danger, but also a shared determination to survive. Nash didn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes was enough. They weren’t out of this yet, but as long as they stuck together, they had a chance.

Deanna nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line, her chest heaving with the effort of suppressing her panic. She could do this. She had to do this.

“Ready?” Nash whispered, his voice low but steady.

Deanna swallowed hard and nodded.

Without another word, they were moving again, darting between trees and pushing through the thick undergrowth. The jungle was wild and untamed, the air thick with humidity and the smell of earth and vegetation. Every step felt like a gamble, every sound a potential threat.

Deanna’s mind raced, but she forced herself to focus on the task at hand. One step at a time. One breath at a time. She couldn’t afford to think about what might happen if they were caught. She couldn’t think about Fatima’s mercenaries closing in on them. She had to trust Nash. Trust that he could get them out of this.

The ground beneath her feet was uneven, roots and rocks threatening to trip her at every turn. But she kept her balance, using her hands to push aside the vines and branches that seemed to grab at her as they ran. Her legs were burning, her lungs screaming for air, but she didn’t slow down.

Nash moved ahead of her, his pace measured but quick. He was careful, scanning the ground and the tree line for any signs of danger, but there was no hesitation in his movements. He knew exactly what he was doing.

And for the first time, Deanna realized that she wasn’t just following him blindly. She was keeping up. Matching him step for step. She wasn’t a liability. She wasn’t a burden. She was holding her own, and despite the fear gnawing at her insides, she felt a surge of pride.

They reached a small clearing, and Nash slowed, motioning for Deanna to do the same. The sounds of the jungle surrounded them, the faint rustle of leaves, the distant call of birds. But behind it all, Deanna could still hear the faint murmur of pursuit—the crack of branches, the distant shuffle of feet.

“We need to keep moving,” Nash said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “They’re close.”

Deanna nodded, her breath coming in shallow bursts. She was tired—so tired—but she wasn’t ready to give up. Not yet.

Nash’s eyes lingered on her for a moment, as if reassessing her. And then, with a nod of approval that sent a flicker of warmth through her, he took her hand and pulled her forward. Together, they plunged deeper into the jungle, the danger behind them a constant, looming presence.

But despite the fear, despite the exhaustion, Deanna felt something else growing inside her—something fierce and unyielding.

She wasn’t going to let fear win. Not now.

Not ever.

Deanna’s heart hammered in her chest as she followed Nash through the dense jungle, their footsteps swift and careful as they navigated the thick undergrowth. The adrenaline that had kept her moving earlier was starting to wear thin, replaced by an aching exhaustion in her limbs. But there was no time to slow down. Every time she thought they might be putting distance between them and the mercenaries, Nash’s sharp gaze and heightened tension told her otherwise. The danger wasn’t far behind them.

Just when she thought they couldn’t go any deeper into the island’s wild terrain, Nash came to an abrupt stop. His hand shot out, signaling for her to halt. Deanna froze, her breath catching as she heard it too—voices. Low, indistinct murmurs drifting through the trees, carried on the humid breeze.

She looked to Nash, her eyes wide with confusion. “It’s them, isn’t it?”

Nash motioned for her to stay quiet, crouching low as he crept forward, toward the source of the voices. Deanna followed, her mind racing. She hadn’t expected anyone else to be out here. The island was remote and uninhabited—wasn’t it?

As they pushed through the final layer of thick foliage, the trees opened up into a small clearing. What she saw made her breath catch in her throat.

Some sort of facility, hidden in plain sight and obscured by the thick jungle canopy. It was small but unmistakable. The building was nondescript, a cluster of steel and glass that looked more like a bunker than anything else, surrounded by a tall fence camouflaged by the surrounding trees. It was clear that someone had gone to great lengths to keep this place hidden.

Deanna exchanged a wide-eyed glance with Nash, who had already moved into the shadows, his body tense and alert, motioning for her to follow suit. The voices were closer now, and as they crept forward, Deanna’s stomach knotted. The conversation, once indistinct, grew clearer with each step.

“I’m telling you, we’re running out of time. If Al-Fayed finds out we’ve been using her network, it won’t just be us in trouble. The professor’s whole operation could come crashing down.”

“I’m not afraid of that old geezer. If I have to choose who to be worried about, it won’t be Hartley.”

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