She stood motionless, gripping the safety rail.
Fuck.
“Jen.” He kept his voice level. “We’re done. Time to head up.”
She didn’t respond. Bubbles spiraled from her air hose. She was breathing too fast. Hyperventilating.
The timer on his wrist glowed red. 5:40 until the charges blew.
They didn’t have any spare time. They had to leavenow.
But Jen was frozen in the dark, and he wasn’t leaving her.
Wyatt moved through the water. Each step took forever. Slow motion. The weight of the ocean resisting. His boots hit the grating. Clunk. Clunk. The distance closed.
Her breathing was ragged on the comms now. Short gasps that didn’t pull enough air.
“Jen,” he said again. Closer now. “I need you to look at me.”
Her eyes stayed fixed on the abyss straight ahead. The darkness stretching forever. The water pressing in from all sides.
Sediment drifted past his faceplate in lazy spirals. Wyatt reached her, grabbed her arm, and turned her to face him.
“Jen.”
Her eyes were wide, nostrils flared, her skin white.
His watch glowed red. 3:40
Not now.
He took hold of her helmet, pulled her closer through the soupy water, and bumped his faceplate against hers.
Click.
Through two layers of scratched acrylic, he made eye contact, her dark lashes visible in the murk.
The rest of the world disappeared. No rig. No ocean. No mission. Just this small bubble of light and air between them. Her face inches from his. Separated by nothing and everything. Alone together in the dark.
Her pupils were blown wide. Terrified.
His grip tightened on her shoulder until it was the only real thing in the dark. This wasn’t an enemy he could fight or something he could kill, disable, or eliminate.
All he could do was stay and be here for her.
“There you are.” His voice was distorted on the comms. “Stay with me, Jen. Right here.”
“Wyatt.” Her voice was barely a whisper.
His wristwatch flashed, but he ignored it.
Every instinct screamed at him to move. Get out. Survive. But those instincts had been honed for missions where he worked alone. Where his life was the only one that mattered. Where violence solved problems.
This was different.
She needed him. Not his training or his ability to eliminate threats. She needed him to be here. Present. A man who wouldn’t leave her alone in the dark.
“I’m right here.” The current fought to separate them, but his hand stayed firm on her shoulder. “You’re not doing this alone.”
