She blinked, her tongue darting over her lips.
He needed to make a connection. A link that would bring her back to him.
“I need to tell you something.” The words came harder than expected. His throat wanted to close. Years of keeping this locked down. Years of not talking about it with anyone. “About why I left the SEALs.”
Her gaze searched his. She was locked on him now, not the ocean, the dark, or lack of air.
Him.
“I killed an innocent man.” Water pressed against his chest. “They said he was a traitor. He wasn’t. Just inconvenient. And I was the weapon they used to make him disappear.”
His forehead remained against hers.
Through the faceplate, Jen’s eyes softened. Her hand lifted through the water. Found his shoulder.
“I was clean-up.” He sighed as the memory rushed him. But the permanent sting that normally came with it was gone. Maybe he was too numb with cold to feel it.
His chest tightened. “Thought that’s all I ever was. A weapon. Something they pointed at problems.”
Her fingers tightened on his shoulder through the suit. The pressure registered even through the layers.
“But you look at me like I’m more than that. Like I don’t have to be a weapon to stand next to you.” His throat was thick, and the words barely made it out.
His watch read 3:08.
Move.His brain screamed at him.Move.
The water pressed down. Heavier now. Or maybe that was the knowledge that explosive charges sat armed twenty feet away. That the ocean wanted to crush them both. That time was bleeding away with every second. But she was still locked down by terror, and dragging a panicking diver through the water to evade a bomb was certain death.
“So, we’re getting that coffee. You and me. Somewhere warm where the only thing trying to kill us is the caffeine.”
Her eyes didn’t leave his but she smiled.
“And you’re going to tell me about your research,” he said. “Not Clive’s version. Not the stolen bullshit he passed off as his. Yours. The real story.”
Her eyes closed, then opened, and now he read determination.
Chief Engineer James was back.
“Can you move? Just one step. That’s all I need.”
Her hand found his through the water. Squeezed once.
No words. She didn’t need them. The squeeze said everything—I hear you. I see you. You’re not what they made you.
The water buffeted him, currents from somewhere above and the timer counted down. 2:54.
Her head moved. A tiny nod.
“Okay,” she whispered through the comm.
Thank fuck.He kept his face neutral. “That’s good. Real good. Now we move together. Stay with me.”
He stepped back , holding her hand. He was not fucking letting go.
He pulled gently, and she moved. One weighted boot forward. Then another.
They walked along the balcony toward the platform. Drag pulled at his suit and his legs burned. Each step was a monumental effort—lift boot, push through resistance, plant weight. Wyatt kept going, pulling her forward.
