22. SQUALO
SQUALO
Night was slowly falling, and I finally made my way back to the lighthouse.
Inside, only her lingering vanilla scent remained, but she wasn’t there.
Unease settled in my throat, tightening until it was hard to breathe.
I set down the bucket with the two small fish I’d caught and started searching for her.
“Gabriella?” I shouted as I climbed the stairs, but she wasn’t upstairs either.
When I came back down, I noticed the map she’d drawn had been shifted slightly across the table. I rushed over and picked it up. She’d marked a small X on the neutral land near the cave where I’d found her last time.
She’d probably gone to collect water since the bottles were gone, but why hadn’t she come back yet? The thought that something might have happened sent my heart into a frenzy. It slammed against my ribs so hard it felt as though thunderstorms were rising and crashing inside my chest.
I walked over to the wardrobe and pulled out the small first aid box we’d found, taking a bandage with me just in case. Then I rushed out of the lighthouse.
I’d tried to keep her as close as possible because the thought of something happening to her, of being left completely alone, was enough to make me lose my mind.
If she went down, I’d go down with her. I’d spent my whole life surrounded by people, and the possibility of ending up alone twisted my stomach into knots.
Now I understood how she felt every time she thought she might be left on her own.
I’d spent all day diving, trying to catch fish. Me, a billionaire who’d never gotten my hands dirty a day in my life. But when the sea takes everything from you, you have to accept whatever it gives back. Right now, those two little fish were all it was willing to offer.
I couldn’t keep walking. My mind wouldn’t stop throwing questions at me, each one worse than the last, so I started running instead.
I kept calculating how long it would take to reach her, and every answer still felt too slow.
I had to get there faster. My ears rang with every pounding step as I fought for breath.
Exhaustion, dehydration, hunger, none of it was on my side, but I needed to find her.
I pushed harder, running faster and faster until an hour had passed, my lungs burning as I fought for every breath. As I reached the top of the hilly meadow, it hit me. I was close. I could see the cave. I could see the small pool of water. But I couldn’t find her.
I tried so hard not to let fear take over. I kept my cool while my yacht was sinking, but now, with her gone, I could barely hold myself together. A million possibilities rushed through my mind, and every single one threatened to break me.
I reached the water and looked around, noticing a faint trail of footprints leading towards the pine woods. One of the letters we’d found earlier mentioned that the treasure was hidden beneath the pine trees marked with an X on the map. Looking at the trail now, she must have gone to explore there.
For a moment, I stood by the den and knelt down. I dipped my hands into the water, then dragged them over my face, the icy splash shocking my skin awake. I scooped up another handful and brought it to my mouth, swallowing the cool water as it slid down my throat.
I got to my feet and slowly made my way towards the woods. The deeper I went, the thicker the trees became, and the narrow path slowly disappeared beneath the undergrowth.
I shouted her name, listening for any sign of where she might be, but only silence answered. I called again.
“Gabby.”
This time, a faint sound came from the grass to my right.
I ran towards it, scanning the ground until I finally found her lying there. Her leg was twisted, her foot caught in an animal trap, the jagged iron jaws clamped tightly around her ankle.
I dropped beside her, my hand reaching for her pale face as a low groan escaped her lips. Her ankle was badly twisted, swollen around the cruel metal spikes that had bitten into her flesh.
“Fuck,” I whispered.
I crouched beside the trap and forced the iron jaws apart. They fought against me, the rusted metal resisting before finally giving away. She slowly pulled her foot free. The moment it cleared the trap, I let go. The jaws snapped shut with a sharp clang beside us.
I took her foot in my hands, trying to assess the damage. She hissed the moment I touched it, but that was a good sign. The nerves were still responding.
“What were you thinking?” I snapped. “You could’ve fucking died.”
I slipped one arm beneath her and lifted her limp body into mine.
“You can’t ever do that again, okay? Promise me, Blue.”
“I promise,” she murmured. Then, barely above a whisper, she asked, “Is the squirrel okay?”
“The squirrel?” My voice shot up. “You risked your fucking life for a squirrel?”
I didn’t know whether to laugh or get even angrier.
“Yes,” she said. “It was hurt.”
“Good.” My jaw tightened. “Maybe now you’ll learn.”
She let out a weak chuckle that dissolved into a cough.
“Are you mad at the squirrel?”
“At you,” I answered. “You scared me.”
My palm cupped her cheek, my thumb brushing gently across her dry lips.
“I missed you today,” I whispered. “I didn’t know I could miss you this much.”
She only smiled, her eyes drifting shut.
“No, no, no.” I patted her cheeks, trying to wake her. “Open your eyes, Blue. Don’t do this to me, Gabriella.”
My hands gripped her shoulders, shaking her gently, but it felt more like I was trying to wake myself from a nightmare.
I grabbed the water bottle from her bag lying beside her, twisted the cap off, and poured the cool water over her wounds. The spikes hadn’t gone in too deep, but they had torn through her skin, and her ankle was badly sprained.
Taking a slow breath, I laid her back down and shifted closer to her injured leg. I wrapped both hands around her foot, braced myself, and with one quick pull, guided her ankle back into place.
A dull crack moved through the trees as the joint settled where it belonged.
I pulled the bandage from my pocket, unrolled it, and wrapped it tightly around her ankle to keep it stable. I used the rest to cover the cuts where the spikes had broken her skin.
The sharp burst of pain jolted her awake. She screamed, the sound tearing through the quiet woods before breaking into sobs as tears streamed down her face.
“It’s okay, baby. I’m here,” I said, pulling her into my arms as I stood.
The moment I lifted her off the ground, something caught my eye. Behind the rock, I noticed a bundle of rolled up scrolls.
“We have to go back,” I said as she weakly clung to my neck.
“Okay,” she whispered. “We have to take the water… and the paintings.”
“Paintings?” I stopped, looking down at her.
She only nodded.
Carefully, I lowered her back onto the ground and stepped over to collect the scrolls and her bag. I slung the bag over my shoulder, its strap digging into me beneath the weight of water, then handed her the scrolls.
She wrapped both arms around them, holding them tightly against her chest.
I knelt in front of her once more, lifted her back into my arms, and carried her towards the lighthouse.
I couldn’t sleep. My eyes stayed fixed on her limp body lying on the floor, her injured foot wrapped in the stitches I’d managed to do after we came back. She was so weak, drifting in and out of sleep while a cold sheen of sweat gathered across her forehead.
“Olly,” she whispered. “Can you hold me?”
“Yes.”
I moved to her side and lay down beside her. She turned her back to me, and I rested my face against her shoulder as she curled into me. My arms slipped around her.
“I remembered something today,” she murmured. “Something your mum said to me when I was eight.”
“Yes?” I whispered, closing my eyes.
“She said I’m her blue, and that when she leaves, she’ll be at peace because I’ll be with you.” She pulled my hand to her face, holding it there as if it were the only thing keeping her at peace.
A tear slipped down my cheek. She had accepted her long before either of us could have imagined we’d end up here, stranded together.
“She loved you,” she whispered. “And I know you still can’t forgive me for keeping it from you, that I knew about my mum and your dad. But I was only ten when I figured it out.”
“I know.” The words came quietly, finally giving in. “It’s not your fault.”
I’d known that all along. I just hadn’t wanted to admit it. But somewhere along the way, when I finally let my heart care about her, my mind stopped fighting it.
“If we ever get back, if Gianni is still alive,” she murmured, “do you think he knows about your dad?”
“I don’t know. And I still can’t wrap my head around something Bianchi said the night of the shipwreck.”
“You saw him?” she asked.
“When I found you lying on the kitchen floor, I knew they had to be on the yacht. I went to the bridge to confront him, and he told me about Gianni and my dad.” I let out a slow breath.
“I don’t know what to believe, Blue. But I know something has been going on for years, and none of it has anything to do with you or me.
I want to write our story somewhere far away from our fucked up family. ”
“Do you think they’re worried about us?” she breathed. “You know… your dad and my mum.”
“No,” I said, leaning closer to her. “I think they’re too selfish to even realize we’re gone.”
I lowered my face to hers.
“Do you ever think about having a family of your own?”
“I was always too busy worrying about everyone else to think about being with someone,” she said, slowly turning towards me.
Her gaze dropped to my chest. She gripped the collar of my shirt before lifting her eyes to mine.
“I’m too afraid to have kids because I don’t want them to carry the trauma my mother left me with. ”
Tears came to her eyes.
“I don’t want them to become broken versions of me, unable to live the life they deserve. Or worse, a life I couldn’t give them.”
I kissed her forehead, then brushed my lips over the bridge of her nose.
“You would never be like your mother,” I said. “And I’m sorry I ever said that to you. I only wanted to hurt you because you’d hurt me.”
“I know,” she whispered, burying her face against my neck. Her finger traced the lines of my tattoo. “I hate this, you know,” she murmured. “Because I know what it means. You came, you saw, and you conquered me.”
“It was a stupid decision when I turned eighteen.” I let out a quiet chuckle. “I wanted to feel all powerful, but the next day I realized I was just an idiot trying to play God.”
“Is that why you don’t have any other tattoos?” she asked.
“Yes.”
She closed her eyes. Within seconds, sleep pulled her under, as if asking those questions had taken the last of her strength.
I didn’t have the courage to tell her that some of what she’d said was true. We do carry our parents’ trauma. Whether we want to or not, pieces of it find their way into us. And I didn’t know how to tell her that I already had a son.
Not even Gianni knew. And neither did my father.
Nikki came to me in 2001 to tell me she was pregnant after our one night stand. As much as I didn’t want it, as much as I tried to push that responsibility away, she wanted to keep the baby.
She changed a lot after that. She wasn’t wild anymore. She let me live my life while she stayed in London and raised our son.
She never wanted me to see him. Instead, every time I sent her money to support the life she’d built, she’d send me a photograph of him.
And now I couldn’t stop wondering if I even deserved more children. If I even wanted them.
The fear was that if Blue and I ever had a child, and if something would happen to me, and she’d be left alone, raising a little boy or girl who would remind her of me every single day. The thought of putting her through that hollowed me out.
Or worse, what if something happened to her? What if I was the one left behind with a little version of Blue?
We’d only end up ruining another life, just as we’d ruined our own.
Some truths were better left unspoken, no matter how much they weighed on you.
One day, I’d tell her about Nikki.
About our son.
And maybe she’d let us meet him.
Ever since we’d become stranded here, that thought had never really left me. And I hate to admit it, she would be a great mom.