A minute passed. Then five. Ten. Twenty.
The sea remained eerily still.
Darren couldn’t have drowned out there—could he?
The thought flashed through her mind, and all she could picture was Darren’s face before he plunged into the freezing water, his skin tinged blue from the cold.
She couldn’t tell anymore: was this gnawing dread because of the vital documents he’d gone after, or because of the man himself—the one who’d risked everything for her?
Suddenly—
A splash shattered the silence.
Darren burst from the water, scrambling onto the shore with agile determination. He shoved a perfectly intact thermal case into her hands, his teeth chattering so hard he could barely speak. “Check it… just in case…”
Charlotte let out a long breath, relief flooding her as she saw he was unharmed.
She keyed in the code, opened the case, and checked the crystals inside. Everything was safe. She snapped it shut and looked up, voice steady. “What about the other professors?”
Pulling out a custom waterproof phone from his pocket, Darren quickly called the mercenaries.
After a brisk exchange, he looked at her. “Don’t worry. I only hire the best—every professor’s been rescued. They’re scattered, but no one’s hurt.”
No sooner had the words left his mouth than a figure appeared in the distance. Darren’s eyes narrowed.
It was a local—tall, broad-shouldered, maybe around forty years old. He was bundled in thick fur, waving and shouting at them in a stream of unintelligible words.
Darren shot Charlotte a wary look. “You’re the linguist here—can you translate?”
Charlotte frowned. Linguist? He couldn’t possibly know about the chip… right?
Her chip covered a lot of languages, but the obscure ones were never included.
She took a wild guess. “He’s here to help us.”


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