Chapter 189: For us

"Stay in here until you regain your senses," Nyland snarled, shoving me into a pitch-black, cramped cabin with a single, brutal thrust.

Right behind me, he unceremoniously tossed a stumbling Adam into the darkness and slammed the heavy iron door shut with a deafening bang.

The key turned in the lock with a sickening crunch—a sound echoing the shatter of my own broken heart. It fractured into razor-sharp shards, crumbling into a deadly, caustic dust capable of destroying every trace of humanity, light, and life within me, leaving behind nothing but primal terror.

He had lost his mind. Seeing Magnus standing at the edge of the pier, along with my desperate, grief-stricken reaction, had driven Dean into a blind, animalistic rage. He had nearly dislocated my shoulder, dragging me through the endless labyrinth of corridors below deck.

Yet something struck me as profoundly strange: I hadn’t seen a single soul as we navigated the massive luxury vessel. It seemed impossible that we were alone. A ship of this scale required a full crew to operate and maintain at sea. I doubted the heavily augmented Dean was acting as captain, engineer, and crew all at once. There were undoubtedly armed mercenaries aboard, making any faint hope of an escape infinitely more treacherous.

Beyond the sheer size and height of the yacht—where leaping into the open sea at high speeds meant a potentially fatal impact—there was another, equally terrifying reality. It was early autumn, and the churning water below was ice-cold. Hypothermia, especially in my fragile and unawakened state, could have catastrophic, irreversible consequences for my body.

For the baby.

Instinctively shielding my abdomen with a trembling hand, I gripped the hem of my dirty, crumpled sweater until my knuckles turned stark white.

"How are you feeling?" Adam asked in a barely audible breath. He stepped through the dim light and gently took my wrist, pressing his fingers against my racing pulse with practiced precision.

"I’m managing..." I whispered, scanning the shadows as my eyes adjusted. "The breathing exercises helped, and the cramping in my stomach has stopped."

"Good. Stay strong, child," Adam exhaled in quiet relief, releasing my wrist to methodically inspect our cramped surroundings. He began setting aside anything that could serve as a weapon or tool for our escape.

The cabin was little more than a neglected storage locker filled with chaotic clutter—dusty bottles of harsh cleaning chemicals, metal canisters, empty buckets, dirty rags, and heavy plastic jugs sloshing with a murky, yellowish fluid.

We searched the space in absolute silence. Reaching the far bulkhead, I froze as my hands brushed against a small, discreet iron hatch. Prying it open with an effort, we revealed a narrow shaft housing a metal compartment. The numeric keypad installed on its side confirmed its purpose: it was a dumbwaiter.

"These jugs contain gasoline and diesel fuel," Adam murmured, sniffing the air near the plastic cans. "They likely used this lift to move heavy supplies between decks so crew members didn’t have to haul them up narrow stairwells. If we can figure out a way to escape unnoticed, this shaft might be our only way out."

I nodded and pulled myself up to peer through a tiny, dust-caked ventilation grate near the ceiling. My heart skipped a beat. High above in the gathering dusk, several sleek black helicopters circled like predatory birds.

There was no doubt—they belonged to Magnus. He had not lost us. Yet he refrained from launching a direct assault or ramming the vessel, paralyzed by the overwhelming fear that Dean would execute me the second a breach began.

The realization jolted my memory. My phone.

In the chaotic frenzy of the abduction, no one had confiscated it. Dean likely assumed Ian and Max had stripped me of my belongings back in the container.

Reaching into my denim pocket with trembling fingers, I pulled out the device. A faint, unstable signal bar flickered on the screen.

My heart hammered against my ribs as I saw an unread notification. The message I had frantically sent from the shipping container had gone through—and my Alpha had replied:

"I will get you out, my soul. I have no right to ask this of you, and I pray to Goddess I never have to utter these words again, but I beg you—be strong. Do not take risks, and do not provoke that scum. He is unhinged, broken, and utterly unpredictable. I will destroy him myself. With my own bare hands. He will pay for every second of this, I swear to you. Breathe for us."

Tears pricked hot and treacherous at the corners of my eyes. My Magnus... my strong, fierce Alpha.

He was right. I had to be strong for him, for us—no throwing my hands up in despair, no breaking down into tears, and no surrendering to fate. Life had taught me that I could only afford to be fragile when I was tucked safely behind his broad shoulders. Everywhere else, weakness was a luxury I couldn’t allow myself.

If I couldn’t rely on brute physical strength the way Magnus did, I had to be smarter and sharper. I had a life worth fighting for and a family waiting for my return. I had made a promise to my young son. And my Alpha had yet to receive his greatest surprise—even though he already suspected it, a realization that was surely tearing his soul apart right now.

Though our grand wedding had yet to take place, I was already his woman. Jane Rainn. Not a cowardly, naive girl who would forever hide in his shadow, but his future wife. I wanted to walk through this life hand in hand with him, my head held high, rather than peering nervously over his shoulder in hopes that he would shield me from every danger.

I needed to be his anchor, not a trembling burden.

Taking a shuddering breath, I typed out a fast, precise message detailing everything I had observed aboard the yacht and every word the unhinged Nyland had uttered. At the very end, with trembling fingers, I added that I needed to feel him close—to feel his presence with every fiber of my being. Surprisingly, putting those words onto the screen eased the suffocating edge of my panic.