Deep Sea Betrayal

Summer Yates' impatient voice pierced through my bone conduction earpiece. "Stop playing dead! Just save your oxygen and start swimming up already! Quit banging around down there. You're ruining the livestream."

I stopped knocking.

In the pitch-black darkness 300 meters below, only the blinking red light on my dive mask cut through the void.

The display read: [Primary Oxygen Line Pressure: Zero. Emergency Reserve Remaining: 3 minutes 15 seconds.]

Summer's shrill voice urged me to start swimming through the comm. "Carter Lawson! Are you deaf?! The sponsor's camera is pointed right at you! Turn around right now and swim toward the surface!

"Make sure you look good doing it. Show everyone the ultimate willpower of a professional diver! If you dare screw up Zachary's documentary on camera, you and I are done when you get back!"

Listening to that familiar, nauseating voice, I did not cry or beg for mercy as I had in my past life.

The temperature at 300 meters was barely above freezing. Yet, my heart felt colder than this water itself.

I glanced down at the multi-function tactical display on my wrist. The oxygen countdown had already dropped.

[2 minutes 45 seconds].

I knew that for a human body, swimming from 300 meters below without oxygen and without any decompression protocol was not an 'extreme challenge'; it was a guaranteed death sentence.

The water pressure at that depth would instantly crush my internal organs into pulp.

Summer and Zachary Gibson were not ignorant. They knew exactly what would happen. They wanted me dead, and they wanted my death to be valuable, to bring explosive traffic to Zachary's documentary.

I took a deep breath of the stale air remaining in my mask and forced myself to stay calm. Instead of turning to swim upward, I raised my right hand, still encased in the heavy, pressure-resistant glove, and tapped the hidden control valve on the side of my helmet three times.

With a beeping sound, the independent black box was activated.

"High-definition audio and video recording in progress."

Only I knew that this latest prototype dive suit had a built-in independent storage module that was not connected to the surface vessel.

It would record everything that was about to happen.

Summer asked, "Carter? What the hell are you doing? Why aren't you moving?"

Zachary's voice cut in, laced with condescending irritation. "Do you have any idea how many followers the livestream just lost because you're stalling? Are you trying to ruin this?"