Page 110 of Surfer's Paradise

The second he hit, everything shifted.

The world went quiet.

Nothing but the sound of his own breathing, the slow, rhythmic pull of air through his regulator, the dark blue of the ocean stretching infinitely in every direction.

One by one, the others followed. The team descended, weightless, slow, shadows drifting lower into the dark.

Isaac kept a careful eye on Zach.

Zach’s breathing was a little fast, a little shallow, but he was holding steady.

Isaac tapped his shoulder, giving him a quick, firm signal—You good?

Zach hesitated. Then nodded.

Isaac narrowed his eyes but let it be.

They continued down, bodies moving in perfect synchronicity, trained for this, built for this.

They hit the bottom—silent ghosts in the deep.

The drill was simple. Navigation, buddy breathing, equipment failure contingencies. Standard shit.

Until Zach froze.

Isaac saw it immediately.

The way Zach’s movements went rigid, the way his breathing spiked, the way his eyes flicked too fast from one point to another, panic setting in.

Isaac swam in fast, placing a firm hand on Zach’s shoulder, squeezing once.

Stay with me.

Zach’s eyes locked onto his.

Isaac nodded once, slow. Steady.

Zach’s breathing evened. His body relaxed. He gave a short nod.

Isaac released him.

The drill continued.

By the time they surfaced, breaking through the water, the sun was high and bright, the boat waiting for them.

Zach hauled himself onto the boat, ripping off his mask and exhaling hard, his breathing still a little uneven from exertion.

Isaac surfaced a second later, scanning him closely, assessing—not just physically but mentally.

Shaw stood at the helm, watching them board, his arms crossed. Expression unreadable.

“No major issues,” he said. “Not bad.”

Zach took a water bottle from Heath, his hands barely shaking now, but Isaac still noticed.

He clapped him once on the back—firm, steady, reassuring.

“You handled it.”

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