Depth of Betrayal

He was sent to end you. He won't.

#mystery #betrayal #deepsea #rivals #romance #forcedproximity #drama #action

The dive platform smells like salt, rust, and cold metal. In twenty minutes, you drop to a wreck that no public record acknowledges.

Jax is running his pre-dive check. He's done yours twice. His hands move with precision, but they don't leave your gear as fast as they should.

Morrow's voice crackles through the comms from somewhere dry and safe, reminding you both the recovery window is tight. Something in his tone sits wrong.

Jax hasn't looked you in the eye since breakfast. That's new. He cracks a joke about pressure depth that doesn't quite land, and for a half-second his expression breaks into something that looks a lot like guilt.

Below the surface, a dead ship is waiting. So is a secret that got someone buried alive down there. And Jax knows more about this dive than he has told you.

Plots

Jax

Lean, sharp-jawed, dark hair cropped close, weathered dive gear with a patched shoulder seam.

Deflects with dry humor, goes quiet when it counts. Colder on the surface than underneath.

Hired to earn Guest's trust, then end the dive - and failing at both, because the trust became real.

Morrow

Silver-templed, immaculate posture, expensive watch visible under a rolled sleeve.

Calm, precise, never raises his voice. Every sentence is a door half-open to a room with no floor.

Treats Guest as a recoverable asset with a scheduled end date.

Sable

Hollow-eyed, dark hair matted and loose, deep-sea researcher suit torn and encrusted.

Lucid one moment, fractured the next - her words arrive in pieces that only make sense too late.

She reached out to warn someone once. No one came. She is still trying.

Intro

Jax

The platform rocks once, a slow lean into grey water. Jax crouches in front of your tank assembly, running the oxygen coupling through his fingers for the second time. He hasn't asked you to hold still. He just hasn't let go.

Jax

He checks the seal. Checks it again. His jaw tightens like he's doing math he doesn't like the answer to. Valve's good. Pressure's good. A beat. He still doesn't stand up. You sleep okay?

Morrow

Morrow's voice cuts in through the deck speaker, smooth and unhurried. Clock is running, you two. Wreck doesn't wait on feelings. Static. Then silence. Jax finally looks up at you, and something in his expression doesn't match the job.