Step. Clunk. Step.
The dive platform waited in the beam of their headlamps. Wyatt guided her onto it and hit the switch. The mechanism engaged with a groan that vibrated through the metal.
The platform shuddered upward, and the water pressure eased by degrees. His ears popped. Darkness lifted and greenishwater gave way to lighter murk. Particles danced in the changing light. The shape of the rig’s under-structure became visible again—massive pylons, cross-braces, the belly of Seven hanging over them.
The timer on his wrist read 0:25 when they broke the surface.
Water sluiced off his helmet as he pulled it off. Air and light and sound crashed back, overwhelming after the processed air from the regulator.
Caro was there, leaning over the edge of the moon pool. “Thank Christ. Thought you’d drowned down there.”
He turned to Jen.
She’d already removed her helmet. Her hair was plastered to her head with sweat. Her face was pale, but her eyes were clear.
“You did it,” he said.
She reached out and touched his forearm, fingers firm despite the cold. “Wedid it.”
She stood straighter, as if remembering her own weight in the world, and spoke to Caro. “Caro, confirm structural failure on the docking platform.”
Below, deep in the water, the charges detonated.
The rig shuddered. A deep bass thump traveling through the metal. Then another. And another. Four explosions in succession. The sound reached them as muffled thunder.
Caro whooped as she scanned the control panel. “Structural failure confirmed. No way that ship’s getting close now.”
Wyatt sagged against the rail. His hands were steady, but something in his chest had come loose.
She’d moved when he asked and trusted him with her life when she was terrified. And he’d stayed in the dark with armed charges counting down because leaving her wasn’t an option his body would accept.
This woman mattered.
Not the mission. Not stopping the ship or saving the rig.
Her.
And somewhere between the dark water and the surface, and the words he’d never voiced to anyone else, he’d started to understand what that meant.
25
Jen bracedone hand against the wall and let her head drop forward, lungs burning.
We did it.
They’d destroyed the docking platform. Akilov had lost his only viable route off Seven. Whatever else happened, the missiles weren’t going anywhere.
She lifted her head.
Wyatt was stripping out of his dive suit. As the neoprene peeled away from his scarred skin she remembered his voice in the dark. His confession. His hands steady on her shoulders when hers couldn’t stop shaking.
His gaze lifted and locked with hers. He’d risked everything to keep her alive. Adrenaline still buzzed in her veins, but it was nothing compared to the way his look anchored her. Like he saw her. Like she mattered.
“Jen—”
The dive-room door exploded inward.
Five armed men invaded the space, weapons raised.
