Chap­ter 2 – The Beasts of Tarzan con­tin­ues with a moment of urgency as a veiled woman rush­es through nar­row alleys toward a dim­ly lit pub. Her con­cern is clear—she is search­ing for some­one, ask­ing about a tall man recent­ly seen leav­ing with anoth­er. A sailor points her toward the wharf, where she soon spots a small boat near­ing a steam­er named the Kin­caid. Deter­mined and unwill­ing to wait, she offers mon­ey to a local oars­man, demand­ing to be tak­en aboard. Once on the ship, silence meets her. Each cab­in she checks is emp­ty, until at last, she faces a famil­iar ene­my: Rokoff, whose twist­ed pres­ence now con­trols the ves­sel. Her courage is met with con­fine­ment, and her fate, uncer­tain, rests with­in walls that hold no mer­cy.

Inside a cab­in turned prison, Jane Clay­ton endures cap­tiv­i­ty under Rokoff’s orders. Meals are hand­ed to her by Sven Ander­ssen, the cook, whose silent sym­pa­thy hints at con­flict beneath his rough exte­ri­or. Jane remains unaware that Tarzan, too, is aboard, held cap­tive below the deck. Their paths remain cru­el­ly divid­ed as the Kin­caid sails onward, mak­ing brief stops only for fuel. Tarzan sens­es something—perhaps a lin­ger­ing instinct—that sug­gests Jane and their child are near. But with­out proof or a voice, his fear lingers just beyond reach. Their shared suf­fer­ing becomes a silent thread, stretched across dark cor­ri­dors and steel walls.

Mean­while, Rokoff’s health crum­bles under the strain of motion sick­ness, but his desire for con­trol remains sharp. Vis­it­ing Jane, he demands a cheque in exchange for safe­ty. Jane refus­es with­out assur­ance, her resolve unshak­en despite iso­la­tion. Her fear lies not in death, but in los­ing her son to a man with no hon­or. Rokoff, fueled by greed and the thrill of dom­i­nance, manip­u­lates her fur­ther. He leaves with her sig­na­ture in hand, hav­ing secured funds under false promis­es. The scene reveals how con­trol is wield­ed through fear, not force, a weapon Jane refus­es to sur­ren­der to will­ing­ly.

Tarzan, final­ly pulled from his cell, is brought before Paul­vitch. The con­fronta­tion brims with ten­sion as Paul­vitch dan­gles Jane and their child’s fate over his head. Tarzan, stripped of free­dom and dig­ni­ty, offers a cheque—knowing it exceeds his actu­al account. It’s not cur­ren­cy he trades, but time—a chance to save his son, no mat­ter the cost. His heart bat­tles log­ic, but his instincts leave no room for hes­i­ta­tion. When Paul­vitch demands his clothes, explain­ing he’ll be marooned on an unfa­mil­iar coast, the cru­el­ty cuts deep­er than betray­al. Tarzan, once lord of the jun­gle, now stands vul­ner­a­ble and alone.

Dropped at sea’s edge with noth­ing but his will, Tarzan begins to adapt. The jun­gle may be harsh, but it holds no lies. Every chal­lenge ahead will be met with instinct, skill, and relent­less dri­ve. Mean­while, Jane remains a pris­on­er of manip­u­la­tion, unaware of Tarzan’s silent sac­ri­fice or how close their paths have come to cross­ing. Yet in both hearts, the same fire burns—the need to pro­tect, to reunite, and to sur­vive. These shared emo­tions echo loud­er than any chains that bind them. Even in iso­la­tion, their con­nec­tion fuels their strength.

For read­ers, this chap­ter lays the ground­work for a pow­er­ful jour­ney built on betray­al, courage, and the pri­mal pull of fam­i­ly. Tarzan’s deci­sion to give everything—knowing he may be cast aside—highlights the depth of a father’s love. Jane’s defi­ance, even when stripped of options, dis­plays her inner strength. Their sep­a­rate strug­gles remind us that resilience is often qui­et, forged not in grand vic­to­ries but in endur­ing uncer­tain­ty with pur­pose. With the ship fad­ing in the dis­tance and jun­gle shad­ows ris­ing, the true sto­ry is just beginning—one of sur­vival, reunion, and jus­tice wait­ing in the heart of the wild.