Chap­ter 10 — Des­per­ate Chance opens in the midst of betray­al and ambi­tion along Borneo’s remote rivers. Nina­ka, once loy­al to Rajah Muda Saf­fir, seizes the moment to claim both the mys­te­ri­ous chest and Vir­ginia Max­on. The thought of hold­ing her caus­es con­flict with­in him; she is both a prize and a prob­lem. He fears the fury of white men but also sees the lever­age she might bring. Despite his hes­i­ta­tion, greed wins over cau­tion. Along­side Barun­da, he devis­es a plan to qui­et­ly dis­ap­pear, hop­ing to van­ish into the jun­gle and out of Muda Saffir’s reach. The chest, believed to hold great val­ue, fuels their resolve. Vir­ginia, qui­et but watch­ful, sens­es their grow­ing treach­ery.

As the boat slices through murky waters, Virginia’s heart grows heav­ier. The jun­gle thick­ens, and with each bend in the riv­er, the hope of res­cue feels more dis­tant. Barun­da and Nina­ka speak in hushed tones, too con­cerned with their spoils to notice Virginia’s cal­cu­lat­ing silence. Her mind races with mem­o­ries of the kind stranger—Bulan—whose pres­ence once made her feel safe. Now, sur­round­ed by men she can­not trust, she pre­pares her­self for a dar­ing move. When the oppor­tu­ni­ty arrives, she takes it. With a swift deci­sion, she leaps into the riv­er. The splash catch­es her cap­tors off guard, and in the moments that fol­low, chaos erupts.

The riv­er becomes Virginia’s only hope. The cur­rent, swift and wild, drags her away from the boat. Behind her, shouts rise as Nina­ka scram­bles to give chase. Croc­o­diles lurk beneath the sur­face, yet she swims with deter­mi­na­tion, dri­ven by a sim­ple need—freedom. Her limbs tire quick­ly, but fear keeps her going. In the dis­tance, the low roar of a gorge echoes loud­er. It is both a warn­ing and a chal­lenge. She risks it all, know­ing the jun­gle offers no sanc­tu­ary and the boat no mer­cy. The gorge draws clos­er. The waters swirl vio­lent­ly. Escape and destruc­tion hang in del­i­cate bal­ance.

Mean­while, Bulan search­es the river­banks, unaware of the exact trail Vir­ginia has tak­en. His instincts guide him toward the water. The mem­o­ry of her face fuels his strength. Though his com­pan­ions are gone, and the jun­gle tests his endurance, he press­es on. Bulan’s human­i­ty, ques­tioned by oth­ers, defines him more than ever. He sees life not as some­thing grant­ed by birth, but by choice. He choos­es to pro­tect, to seek, to fight for some­one he bare­ly knows but deeply respects. Far­ther down the riv­er, strange sounds rise, sig­nal­ing pos­si­ble conflict—or worse. Bulan quick­ens his pace.

Back on the prahu, Nina­ka curs­es Virginia’s escape. He orders the row­ers to fol­low, des­per­ate to recov­er his bar­gain­ing chip. Barun­da hes­i­tates. The riv­er grows dan­ger­ous, and super­sti­tion clouds the crew’s courage. But greed is loud­er than fear. They row hard­er, hop­ing to reach her before the gorge. Vir­ginia, now near the edge, finds a fall­en branch extend­ing from a stone. With the last of her strength, she grabs it. The cur­rent pulls at her legs. Her fin­gers slip. Then, a hand—unexpected and strong—pulls her up.

The hand belongs to one of Bulan’s kind, a crea­ture torn between instinct and new­found loy­al­ty. Vir­ginia, half-con­scious, bare­ly notices her sur­round­ings. She is safe, for now. Bulan appears moments lat­er, his relief unspo­ken but pow­er­ful. In a clear­ing above the riv­er, they regroup. No words are exchanged imme­di­ate­ly, only breaths and grat­i­tude. Virginia’s strength slow­ly returns. The jun­gle, relent­less as ever, stands still for a moment. Then it resumes its pulse, its threat, its indif­fer­ence.

This chap­ter threads des­per­a­tion with action, reveal­ing the raw instincts that dri­ve both cap­tor and cap­tive. It shows that in the face of per­il, courage often sur­faces from unex­pect­ed places. For Vir­ginia, it is her refusal to remain a pawn. For Bulan, it is the qui­et deci­sion to pur­sue what is right, even when the world calls him beast. Their paths, now cross­ing again, offer more than survival—they hint at redemp­tion, trust, and the pow­er of will.