Page 111 of Rescuing Mia
And even if I do, will I ever truly be free, or will the specters of my past always haunt me, lurking just beyond the edges of my new existence?
Skye’s voice cuts through my thoughts, her tone gentle but firm. “We also need to consider the long-term implications for Mia’s well-being. A staged death, a new identity—those are huge changes, ones that will affect every aspect of her life. We need to make sure she has the support and resources she needs to navigate this transition, to build a new life for herself.”
“Fortunately, we’ve got a lot of experience doing just that.” Forest’s low rumble catches me off guard. “Although, I wouldn’t place her at The Facility. Too much risk to our other residents. But on Guardian HRS proper? That will do.”
I swallow hard, my throat tight with emotion. The magnitude of what we’re discussing is overwhelming, a weight that presses down on my chest, making it hard to breathe. I glance at Rigel, seeking comfort in the steadiness of his gaze, in the strength of his presence beside me.
He meets my eyes, his expression softening. “What are you thinking?” he asks, his voice low and gentle. “What are your fears, your concerns?”
“I’m scared.” I take a shaky breath, my hands trembling in my lap. The words feel small and fragile. “Scared of losing myself, of forgetting who I am. Scared of letting go of my past, of the people and memories that have made me who I am.”
“Are we in agreement then?” CJ rises from his seat, his authoritative presence filling the room. “Mia stays on Guardian HRS grounds until we figure out a way to fake her death?”
I shudder at the thought of being locked away, isolated from the world, from any semblance of normalcy. The idea of confinement, of being trapped and helpless, sends a spike of fear through my veins, cold and sharp. I can’t help but gasp as the room closes in around me.
My chest tightens. There’s not enough air. I can’t breathe. It’s the same panic attack, but this time, it returns with a vengeance.
I glance at Rigel, my eyes pleading for an escape, for something to anchor me.
Rigel’s gaze locks onto mine, and he understands immediately.
“Excuse us for a moment,” he says to the team, his voice polite but firm. “I think Mia could use some fresh air.”
Ethan nods, his expression sympathetic. “Of course. Take all the time you need.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
MIA
Rigel helpsme to my feet, his touch gentle as we make our way out of the cramped galley. He guides me up the steep stairs and to the top deck of the trawler. Immediately, the fresh sea air hits me like a cool, invigorating wave, washing away the stale confines of the galley and the panic infusing my mind.
The salty sea breeze whips through my hair, tangling it into wild tendrils. The vast expanse of the ocean stretches out before us, endless and untamed, with no land in sight, and the horizon blurs into a delicate blend of blues where the water meets the sky in a seamless line.
Mid-morning, the sun climbs upward, casting a shimmering path across the undulating waves. The sea is calm, with only a few white caps topping gentle swells. Their frothy peaks catch the light. The sky is mostly clear. A few wispy clouds drift lazily overhead. Pure white and fluffy, they look like someone stuck cotton up in the air.
The wind carries the sharp tang of the sea, and it mingles with the industrial metal of the trawler, diesel, and steel with a hint of rust. The rhythmic creak of ropes and the occasional clatter of looseequipment create a background symphony punctuated by the soft, steady hum of the engine below deck.
I take a deep breath, filling my lungs with the fresh, salty air. It’s a stark contrast to the thick, tense atmosphere of the galley. The open space feels liberating, offering a momentary escape from the weight of the decisions and fears pressing down on me.
Rigel stands beside me, his presence a comforting anchor in this vast, shifting seascape. His gaze follows mine, taking in the endless horizon.
“It’s beautiful out here,” he murmurs, his voice blending with the whisper of the wind and the gentle lapping of the waves against the hull.
I nod, unable to find the words to express the tumult of emotions swirling inside me. Instead, I let the sensory experience wash over me, grounding me in the here and now.
The trawler rocks gently with the rhythm of the sea, a soothing, hypnotic motion that eases my fear. The deck beneath my feet is solid, a reassuring contrast to the fluid world around us.
I lean against the railing, the cool metal pressing into my palms, and close my eyes for a moment, letting the environment envelop me.
As I open my eyes, the vast, empty ocean stretches out before me, a reminder of the isolation and freedom it offers. No birds, no signs of other life—just the endless water and sky. It’s both humbling and daunting, a mirror to my uncertainty.
“Talk to me,” he says softly, his voice barely audible over the crash of the waves against the hull. “What’s going through your mind?” Rigel’s hand finds mine, his grip firm and reassuring.
The sincerity in his eyes, the unwavering support, eases some of the fear gripping my heart. I nod, taking another deep breath as the world steadies around me.
I take a shaky breath, the words tumbling out of me in a rush.
“I’m scared. Scared of leaving everything behind, of starting over with a new life and a new identity. I knew it was a possibility when I ran, but now that it’s here, now that it’s real—it’s overwhelming.”