Page 89 of Rescuing Mia
The cold is a living thing, a malevolent presence that sinks its claws into my flesh and refuses to let go. It gnaws at me, an aching, bone-deep chill that sets my teeth chattering and my muscles spasming.
I’ve never been so cold in my life.
The Mylar blanket crinkles with every shudder that runs through me, a grating sound that scrapes against my raw nerves. It’s a flimsy shield, a pathetic barrier against the relentless onslaught of the elements.
But it’s all I have.
That, and Rigel.
His heartbeat is a steady thump against my ear, a soothing rhythm that anchors me in the chaos. His breath is warm against my skin, a whisper of heat in the frigid night air.
He’s talking to me, his voice low and urgent. I can’t make out the words, but the cadence of his speech is a comfort, a lifeline to cling to in the darkness.
I sink into his embrace, letting his strength seep into my chilled bones. He’s my rock, my protector, my savior.
And as I drift in the netherworld between unconsciousness and waking, I know one thing with crystal clarity.
I am safe.
As long as I’m in Rigel’s arms, I am safe.
His embrace promises safety, warmth, and protection.
I burrow deeper into his arms, pressing my face against the solid wall of his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath my cheek. The rhythm is soothing, a reminder that we are both still alive, still breathing, still fighting. And for a moment, just a moment,I allow myself to believe that everything will be okay, that I will make it through this nightmare and emerge stronger on the other side.
“Mia? Can you hear me?” Rigel’s voice is rough, edged with a fear that sends a shiver down my spine.
I nod, my throat too thick to speak, my tongue heavy and useless in my mouth. I try to sit up, to pull myself out of his arms and face whatever nightmare we’ve found ourselves in, but a wave of dizziness washes over me, and I slump back against him, my head spinning, my stomach churning with nausea.
“Easy there,” he murmurs, his hand brushing the hair from my face with a gentleness that makes my heart ache. “You’ve been through a lot. Just take it slow.”
I look around, taking in my surroundings for the first time, my eyes widening with growing horror as the reality of our situation sinks in. We’re in a small, inflatable boat, the kind used by the military, speeding through the night. The ocean stretches out around us, an endless expanse of black water that seems to go on forever.
The boat feels impossibly small, a mere speck in the vast, unforgiving sea. The RIB jumps and skips over the waves, its hull slapping against the water with a bone-jarring impact that sends shockwaves through my already battered body.
The boat catches air as it crests a particularly large swell, and for a moment, we’re airborne, suspended in a sickening moment of weightlessness. Panic rises in my throat, a choking, clawing thing that threatens to consume me. My stomach lurches into my throat, and I squeeze my eyes shut, bracing for the inevitable crash back into the water.
When it comes, it’s an impact that slams the breath from my lungs and sends a spike of pain lancing through my skull. I can’t help the whimper that escapes my lips, a pitiful sound that’s swallowed by the roar of the engine and the howl of the wind.
“You’re safe.” Rigel’s arms tighten around me, his body a solid wall of strength and warmth. “I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against my ear. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
But even his reassurance can’t quell the terror that grips me, theprimal, instinctive fear of being so small and vulnerable in the face of something so vast and powerful. The ocean is merciless, indifferent to the fragility of human life, and I feel every inch of my mortality in this moment.
Another wave crashes over the bow, drenching us in icy salt water. I splutter and cough, the brine burning my nose and throat. The cold is physical, a brutal, relentless assault that leaches the very warmth from my bones.
I burrow deeper into Rigel’s embrace, seeking his heat, his strength, and his solid presence. He’s the only thing that feels real, the only thing that anchors me to sanity in this nightmare of wind and water and darkness.
But even as I cling to him, I can’t shake the sinking feeling we’re hurtling toward something beyond our control, something that will swallow us both and never let go.
The wind whips at my hair and clothes, cutting through the thin fabric of my shirt like a thousand icy knives. I shiver, huddling closer to Rigel, desperate for his warmth, his strength, his protection.
There are five other men in the boat with us, all of them dressed in black tactical gear. They move with a precision and efficiency that speaks of years of training and experience.
The men are imposing figures, their muscular frames filling the small space of the RIB. Even seated, their presence is overwhelming, a palpable force that seems to press against me from all sides. In the darkness, their features are little more than shadows and angles, their expressions unreadable beneath the helmets and goggles they wear.
I can’t help but shrink back against Rigel, intimidated by the sheer physicality of these men. They radiate a coiled, dangerous energy, a barely restrained power that feels like a ticking bomb in the confines of the boat.
One of them, a hulking bear of a man, catches my gaze, his eyes glinting in the faint light of the moon. There’s something assessing in his stare, a calculating intensity that makes me feel like a specimen under a microscope. I look away quickly, my heart hammering in my throat.