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.
Chapter Thirteen
Nash
The storm had finally calmed, but the tension that gripped Nash’s chest hadn’t eased. The enemy boats cut through the now-smooth waters, bringing them closer to the looming silhouette of a much larger vessel on the horizon. It was another military-style ship, its hulking mass black against the night sky. Nash sat beside Deanna, their hands tied, their futures uncertain. He couldn’t help but glance at her—she was bruised, soaked from the storm, but her eyes were clear and sharp, as if there was something going on inside her brain. He’d bet money she was planning something.
They had been transferred from their speedboat to this enemy craft by Broadmore’s men, both held at gunpoint. It had happened too quickly for Nash to make a move, not without putting Deanna in danger, and now they were heading straight into the lion’s den.
The roar of the engine was deafening, but not enough to drown out Nash’s thoughts. Admiral Broadmore—he still couldn’t quite manage to wrap his brain around it. The man who had once commanded his loyalty, who had taught him everything about being a SEAL. And now, that same man had betrayed his country, sold out everything he once stood for. Nash’s jaw tightened, his muscles coiling in frustration. The anger roiled within him, but he couldn’t afford to lose his focus. Not yet.
As they neared the massive ship, a gangplank was lowered, and Broadmore’s men motioned for them to stand. Nash got to his feet, his body aching from the tension of being on high alert for so long, but he wasn’t about to show weakness. Deanna followed suit, her movements steady despite the uncertainty. He cast her a quick glance, their eyes locking for a brief moment. It was enough. She was still with him. They were still in this together.
The climb up to the ship was quick, but each step felt heavy with the weight of what was coming. Nash knew that once they were aboard, things would get worse before they got better. He had no illusions about Broadmore’s plans, nor did he trust the admiral’s men to keep their word about Deanna’s safety. His mind raced, scanning for options, for ways to turn the situation around.