“You’re going to make waves with this,” he said softly. “More than either of us planned.” Marcus didn’t answer. His thoughts lingered not on the evidence, not even on the arrests, but on the gaze of the shark. The way it had endured, the way it had hovered in silence, and then — impossibly — the way it had steered him from death.
In the stillness of the dock, with gulls crying overhead and the sea lapping at the pylons, Marcus let himself imagine the creature still moving somewhere in the dark. Not as a shadow, not as a predator, but as something far older, far more resolute than he could ever name. He exhaled slowly, turning the camera over in his hands. Tomorrow he would deliver the footage.