Page 91 of Rescuing Mia

The end?

That sounds ominous.

There’s steel in his voice, a conviction that brooks no argument. Despite my fears, despite the doubts that gnaw at the edges of my mind, a flicker of hope kindles in my chest.

“Okay,” I whisper, my voice hoarse and raw.

Ethan nods, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

As the boat speeds through the night, the stars twinkle in theinky sky above. I drift in and out, my mind struggling to make sense of the events that brought me here.

Rigel’s arms remain a constant presence around me, his warmth and strength anchoring me to the present, even as my thoughts spiral into a maze of uncertainty and fear. Despite his comforting embrace, I can’t stop shivering; my clothes soaked through from our plunge into the ocean, and the spray from the boat doesn’t help.

The chill seeps into my bones, and the wind only intensifies the cold.

One of the men, a tall, broad-shouldered figure with kind eyes, approaches. He adjusts the Mylar blanket around my body, the material crinkling softly as he tucks it around me.

“This should help keep you warm,” he says, his voice gentle and reassuring. “I’m Walt, by the way. Charlie team’s medic.”

I look to Rigel, a silent question in my eyes. He nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Walt works with Blake, the friend I’ve mentioned, the one who works for the private security company.”

Blake crouches down to Mia’s level to reassure her. “Walt’s one of the best medics I know.”

Walt chuckles, shaking his head. “I don’t know about that, but I know a thing or two about keeping people alive.” He leans in closer, his eyes scanning my face with a professional intensity. “How are you feeling? Any dizziness, nausea, or trouble breathing?”

“No, just cold. Really cold.” I shake my head, the movement sending a fresh wave of shivers through my body. “And tired. I can barely keep my eyes open.”

“That’s understandable.” Walt nods, his expression serious. “You were in the water for a while, and the risk of hypothermia is real. I’ll keep an eye on you. Make sure your body temperature doesn’t drop too low.”

I glance at Rigel, noting that he, too, is soaked to the skin, his hair plastered to his forehead. “What about you?” I ask, my voice rough with concern. “Don’t you need a blanket, too?”

“Don’t worry about Rigel. He’s a tough guy, and he’s beenthrough worse than a little cold water.” Blake follows my gaze, a rueful smile tugging at his lips.

“I’m fine.” Rigel tightens his arms around me, his breath warm against my ear. “Right now, all that matters is keeping you safe and warm.”

I lean into him, grateful for his strength and for the unwavering support he offers. The foil blanket crinkles as I shift, the material reflecting the body heat trapped beneath it.

I blink, my eyes gritty and sore, as I take in our surroundings.

“Where are we?” I ask, my voice rasping in my dry throat.

“A safe place for now,” Ethan replies. “We’ll be able to regroup and plan our next move.”

I nod, a flicker of hope kindling in my chest.

As the RIB slows, a shape looms out of the darkness, a hulking silhouette that gradually resolves into the form of a fishing trawler. It bobs gently on the swells, its deck lights casting a soft glow that spills across the black water.

The scent of diesel fuel and salt spray hangs heavy in the air, mingling with the briny tang of fish and the musty odor of damp nets. The trawler’s hull is weathered and scarred, a patchwork of rust and peeling paint that speaks to a life spent battling the elements.

As we draw closer, I can make out more details—the massive crane mounted on the stern, the rows of windows along the wheelhouse, and the tangles of ropes and buoys scattered across the deck. It’s a workhorse of a vessel, utilitarian and unlovely, but at this moment, it’s the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.

The RIB bumps gently against the trawler’s hull, the rubber sides absorbing the impact with a soft squeak. Above us, a rope ladder unfurls from the railing and slaps against the trawler’s hull.

I look up at the ladder, my heart sinking as I take in the daunting climb ahead. There’s no way I can make it up there, not in my weakened state, not with my limbs shaking and my head spinning.

Rigel seems to sense my hesitation. “I’ll carry you,” he says, his voice low and reassuring.

“Carry me?” I jerk back, my eyes wide with disbelief. “You can’t possibly carry me up that ladder. I’ll fall.” My hands are too weak to hold the Mylar blanket around me, let alone cling to Rigel’s back.