But the real mystery lies deeper.
There are seven tunnels of various shapes and sizes that branch from the main entrance. One of the narrower passages looms ahead, a jagged throat carved into the limestone wall. I find the nylon permanent dive line I’d laid during my prior dives. Tightly tucking in my arms, I adjust my position and angle my body, gliding forward with small, controlled kicks.
My fins don’t stir the water. One kicked-up cloud of silt could blind me.
The passage narrows, walls of rock grazing my suit. I exhale slowly, deflating my chest to slip through a pinch point barely wider than my shoulders. The tightness of the space presses in from all sides. Each breath I take is deliberate and loud in the silence. I take a left and push my limits even further, navigating through an unbelievably narrow vertical shaft. The tunnel shifts abruptly, its narrow clutch forcing me to inch through sideways. The loud grating of my tanks against the rock echoes against thewalls. Entering another cavern pocked with over a dozen more tunnels, I follow the path I charted on my last dive, entering the corridor. When I reach the end of the existing line, I unspool more, carefully securing and tightening it every few feet. I’m now in unexplored territory. Unsure if this path will close off, I push forward.
Then, the passage opens.
I float into a massive open chamber and adjust my light. Sweeping the beam over the floor, I catch my breath.
Half-buried in the silt is a ceramic shard. I pick it up and gently wipe it clean. Intricate patterns emerge, delicate carvings untouched by time. My breath fogs my mask as I scan more of the chamber. Another object, this one with a beautiful patina. Platinum? A tool or weapon?
My chest tightens as recognition of the objects sinks in.
After years of research and fighting my skeptics, and now, here it is. Proof.
Excitement surges through my body as I catalog each item, keeping my movements steady. But this is more than a breakthrough—it’s now a target. He will try to take this discovery and twist it into greed. This is just the beginning of a larger journey. I have to keep it safe.
The red glow from my monitor pulls my attention back to the dive. I’ve stayed too long. The rule of thirds dictates using a third of your gas to go in and a third to get back, leaving what’s left as a reserve to account for the unexpected. My gauge reads 40 percent.
I pack my tools. I’ll need a proper team to procure these artifacts once I’m sure I can keep them safe. I begin my return, following the line with steady movements. The moment I prepare to enter the transition chamber, the rebreather hisses, followed by the terrible vibration of the alarm.
My stomach drops as I check the system. Every muscle in my body tenses. The scrubber canister has stopped working. Switching to the bailout, I take a slow breath.
Nothing.
This isn’t an accident. Panic claws at my heart, but I push it away. I only have enough air left for a few more deep breaths. I keep my tanks, but drop all the other gear. Kicking harder, my lungs burn as I push through the pinch points to reach the exit. I take my last breath as I enter the main cavern. When I emerge from the exit, the faint glow of the surface is in sight. But there’s no air left, and it’s too far away.
She smiles, her soft voice whispering in my mind—a siren’s call. Stay with me. Don’t leave me. It’s beautiful here. The call to stay, to embrace the peace of the deep, is strong.
But I’ve made promises to those I love, and I won’t let myself give up.
With every ounce of strength I have left, I push upward—toward the light. Darkness closes in, and my vision tunnels. I exhale.
Forgive me.
Chapter 1
Maddie
As I step out of my rental car, a sea breeze hits me. The air is warm, salty, and tinged with the smell of green growth and wild coast. Maverick Key isn’t like anywhere else I’ve ever been. It’s earthy, untamed, and alive.
The gravity of returning to this place and breathing the same air Nathan once did presses down on me. Memories pull me back to my visit here seven years ago, just before graduation. It was the last time I saw him in his element. After my trip, he visited us in Sarasota when he could. Those days in the Key keep circling in my mind, a carousel of lost dreams.
But he’s not completely gone. When I need him most, his voice still rings out from my heart, and it feels like he’s still here.
Our last phone call replays through my thoughts—the one not long before he died—five years ago. I’d begged him not to go into the caves alone. But he did.
Why did you lie to me?
Now, here I am, only twenty-eight and already so damnold.
Ding, my shaggy Polish Lowland Sheepdog, leaps from behind me, barking as his paws hit the sandy gravel.
I met Ding, when he was a stray pup, during my veterinary internship. A teenage boy begged me to keep Ding so his parents wouldn’t take him to a shelter. Given my responsibilities to Mom, I couldn’t afford to care for a dog, but I’d never listened to logic where my heart was concerned.
Ding saved me. I wouldn’t have made it without him after losing Nathan.
