Safe House Shadows
The dim glow from a single desk lamp cast long shadows against the peeling wallpaper. The safe house smelled of dust, old whiskey, and the faint iron tang of blood.
Declan Cross leaned over Milinah, his hands steady despite the circumstances. A needle glinted between his fingers, threading through her skin with quiet precision. The bullet had only grazed her, but it had torn deep enough to warrant stitches.
Milinah’s breath hitched as he tightened the first loop. “Make them small,” she murmured, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “Don’t need an ugly scar ruining my good looks.”
Declan didn’t glance up, but his voice carried a smirk of its own. “Sweetheart, a scar like this? Might make you look dangerous. Could be an upgrade.”
Milinah scoffed. “And what, be mistaken for one of the thugs we keep dodging? I’d rather stick to charming people before pulling a gun on ‘em.”
Declan tied off another stitch, flicking her a glance. “Pretty sure you did both tonight.”
She chuckled, then winced as his needle moved again. “Damn it, Cross.”
“Keep talking, keeps your mind off it.”
Milinah exhaled slowly, her posture shifting just enough to ease the tension. “Fine. What’s the worst injury you ever patched up?”
Declan paused, considering. “Had a knife run across my ribs once. Some punk thought he could scare me into handing over evidence.”
She arched a brow. “And?”
“Scared him worse when I shoved his own blade through his sleeve and pinned him to the bar counter.”
Milinah laughed, eyes glinting in the low light. “Classic.”
Declan tied off the final stitch and leaned back, biting the suture clean before grabbing the bandage. He pressed it over her wound, firm but careful. “All done.”
Her fingers brushed over the fresh dressing, her smirk softer now. “Don’t let it go to your head, but… not bad, Cross.”
Declan leaned back against the creaky desk, rubbing his thumb over the edge of the whiskey glass beside him. “Would’ve been easier if you sat still.”
Milinah tilted her head, eyes flickering with something unspoken. “Would’ve been easier if we weren’t running for our lives.”
The silence between them stretched, thick with everything left unsaid.
Outside, the city murmured—sirens in the distance, the hum of neon signs flickering against the night. The world was still hunting them.
But for now, in the quiet of the safe house, they had a moment.
They let the moment sit between them—close, quiet, something dangerously familiar in the way their eyes lingered a second too long.
Then, the bedroom door creaked open.
Celeste, hair mussed, eyes sharp despite the drowsiness, stepped into the room. Her gaze flicked between them, registering the silence, the way Milinah’s hand still rested lightly over her bandage, the way Declan hadn’t moved away.
She exhaled, barely amused, then said, “I need to tell you something.”
The warmth between Declan and Milinah cooled instantly.
Because the way Celeste said it—the way her voice carried the weight of everything left unsaid—meant trouble was knocking again.
The Secret Beneath Blackwater Lagoon
Celeste leaned against the kitchen counter, her fingers wrapped around a chipped coffee mug, steam curling into the dim safe house light. Declan watched her carefully—her expression was tense, distant, like she was holding onto a story too heavy to tell outright.
Milinah, still wincing slightly as she adjusted her bandage, crossed her arms. "Well? You dragged yourself out of bed to tell us something important. Spill."
Celeste exhaled sharply, setting the mug down with a dull clink. "You ever wonder why the Seraphim are so damn desperate to erase history? Why they bury things instead of just wiping them clean?"
Declan leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. "Because some secrets can’t just disappear. They have to be locked up."
Celeste nodded, her gaze flicking between them. "That’s exactly what they did. Beneath Blackwater Lagoon, there's something the world wasn’t supposed to find.
The Plan to Infiltrate Blackwater Lagoon
Declan Cross poured a stiff drink, his hand steady despite the weight of Celeste’s revelation. The ice clinked in the glass—a rare sound of calm in a night thick with trouble. Across the safe house, Milinah sat on the edge of the desk, adjusting the fresh bandage over her stitched wound, her gaze locked on Celeste like she was still trying to believe the words that had left her mouth.
Declan downed half his whiskey, setting the glass aside before leaning forward, elbows on his knees. “Alright,” he said, his voice low, measured. “Say we believe all this—and for the record, I damn well do—how do we get inside before the Seraphim seal it again?”
Celeste sighed, rubbing at her temples. “The entrance is submerged. Deep enough that normal diving gear won’t cut it.”
Milinah raised a brow. “Lucky us—we know a guy.”
Declan tilted his head, catching where she was going. “Garnett.”
Celeste frowned. “Who’s Garnett?”
“Ex-Navy diver,” Milinah said, stretching out her leg to prop her boot against the desk. “Drinks at The Salty Seamen. Likes his whiskey neat and his stories half-truth. Used to run dives off Sugar Bay before he got spooked.”
Celeste arched a brow. “Spooked?”
Declan smirked faintly, rolling his glass in his palm. “Claims he saw something in the water. Something that wasn’t supposed to be there.”
Milinah leaned forward, tapping the desk for emphasis. “We buy him a drink, we get his version of the story. If he’s seen the bunker, he’s got what we need.”
Celeste sighed, glancing between them. “And if he won’t talk?”
Declan set his glass down, standing smoothly. “Sweetheart, everyone talks if you ask right.”
The Diver Who Knew Too Much
The Salty Seamen smelled like old rum, fried food, and the kind of salt air that never quite left the floorboards. Garnett sat at the far end of the bar, nursing a drink like he was hoping it would start answering his problems for him. His beard had gone rough with age, but his eyes—sharp, wary, keen—still held the weight of someone who’d seen too much.
Declan slid into the stool beside him, Milinah taking the one on the other side. Celeste hovered near the jukebox, staying just close enough to keep an eye out.
Garnett didn’t look at Declan when he spoke. “If you’re here for a dive, I’m retired.”
Declan signaled to the bartender, nodding toward Garnett’s near-empty glass. “Good thing we’re not hiring. Just interested in your last dive.”
Garnett exhaled through his nose, taking a slow sip of the fresh whiskey poured in front of him. “Sugar Bay ain’t a place you go poking at history, son.”
Milinah leaned in, voice smooth. “Thing is, history started poking back.”
That got him. His fingers tightened just slightly around the glass, his posture stiffening. A tell.
Declan pressed forward. “Blackwater Lagoon. Depth of roughly 80 feet before you hit the hard floor. And yet, you found something that wasn’t sand. Didn’t you?”
Garnett’s throat worked as he swallowed. “I didn’t find it.” He set the glass down, finally looking at Declan. “It found me.”
Declan and Milinah exchanged a glance.
Celeste, still at the jukebox, pretended to be focused on an old blues record, but she was listening now.
Garnett lowered his voice. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
Milinah smirked, resting her elbow against the counter. “Try us.”
The Warning
Garnett stared into his drink, swirling the liquid like it held the truth he wasn’t sure he wanted to say. Then, finally, he spoke.
“I used to run military recovery ops,” he said, voice quieter now. “Salvage, mostly. That was before I lost my nerve. Before I went down there and saw what wasn’t supposed to be in those waters.”
Declan waited, letting the silence sit long enough for Garnett to fill it himself.
He did.
“A structure,” he murmured. “Not coral. Not wreckage. Steel. A bunker. Sealed so damn tight I thought it was a hallucination, but I touched it. Felt it.”
Milinah’s smirk faded. “And then?"
The Diver’s Warning
The ice in Garnett’s drink clinked softly as he took another sip, his fingers tightening around the glass like it was the only thing keeping him steady. The Salty Seamen buzzed with distant chatter, but at the far end of the bar, near the dim glow of a flickering neon sign, everything between Garnett, Declan, Milinah, and Celeste hung in a thick, charged silence.
Declan leaned in, his voice steady but sharp enough to cut through the tension. “What do you mean, it knocked back?”
Garnett’s gaze flicked between them, as if he was trying to decide whether to tell the truth or cut his losses. He exhaled, rubbed his jaw, then let out a humorless chuckle. “Y’know, back in the service, we had a saying: You see something you can’t explain, you keep your damn mouth shut.”
Milinah smirked faintly, spinning the rim of her empty glass with her fingertips. “Never been good at that.”
Declan shot her a glance—neither had he.
Garnett sighed, setting his glass down with a heavy clunk. “Fine. You wanna know? I’ll tell you. But you ain’t gonna like it.”
The Incident Beneath Blackwater Lagoon
"Three years ago," Garnett began, his voice lowering, "I ran a dive off the lagoon—not for treasure, not for work. Curiosity. I’d heard stories. Rumors of something big beneath the water, buried deep enough that even the Seraphim wouldn’t touch it. Figured it was an old wreck, maybe an old smuggler’s stash. Thought I’d go down, have a look."
He took another sip of his drink, shaking his head. “But I saw steel. Not coral, not wreckage. A bunker. A door. And a mark that I sure as hell recognized.”
Celeste narrowed her eyes. “The Nazi insignia.”
Garnett nodded once. “Faded. But still there.”
Declan’s pulse ticked up. “And then?”
Garnett ran a hand through his beard. "I knocked. Yeah, I know—real dumb. But I knocked. Maybe I thought I’d hear an echo. Maybe I was just testing the metal."
Milinah leaned forward slightly. "And it knocked back."
Garnett’s expression darkened. "Not like a tap. Like a response. A deep, slow, deliberate pound against the steel from the inside."
Declan and Milinah exchanged a glance.
Celeste was watching now, her fingers gripping the edge of the bar.
"It wasn’t debris shifting, wasn’t water pressure," Garnett muttered. "It was intentional. Like whatever was in there wasn’t supposed to wake up. Like whatever was in there was waiting."
The Danger Ahead
Declan let the silence stretch, then finally spoke. "Did you go back?"
Garnett snorted. "Hell no. Swore off deep dives after that. You wanna go looking for something that should’ve been buried forever? Be my guest. But I’m telling you—something’s still in that bunker. And if you open it, you better be damn sure you’re ready for whatever comes out."
Celeste inhaled sharply, murmuring under her breath, “It’s already waking up.”
Declan exhaled, rubbing his temple. Milinah tossed back the last of her drink, setting her glass down with finality.
The clock was running out.
And whatever was knocking inside that bunker?
It wasn’t going to wait much longer.
The Darkest Secret of Blackwater Lagoon
The Salty Seamen felt smaller now, as if the weight of the conversation had pressed against the walls, making the room shrink with every word. Garnett’s whiskey sat untouched in front of him, his fingers drumming against the wood like he was counting down the seconds until regret kicked in.
Declan leaned forward. “You said something knocked back.”
Garnett swallowed hard, nodding. “I did.”
Celeste, who had been silent since the initial revelation, finally stepped into the conversation, crossing her arms as she studied Garnett with sharp, knowing eyes. “I think I know why.”
Declan glanced at her. Milinah arched a brow.
Celeste exhaled slowly, like she was digging up something she wasn’t supposed to know. “You ever hear whispers about Projekt Verdammnis?”
Garnett stiffened. The reaction was immediate.
Declan and Milinah exchanged a glance.
Celeste continued, her voice quieter now. “Before the war ended, Germany was running biological experiments, not just weapons. Soldiers—perfected ones. No weaknesses. No fear. No mortality. The kind that could fight beyond human limitations. The kind that didn’t break.”
Milinah scoffed, but there was no humor in it. “Sounds like a horror story.”
Celeste nodded once. “It was.”
Declan’s jaw tightened. “And you’re saying one of them is in that bunker?”
Celeste’s expression darkened. “Not just one. The first. The prototype. The only one that survived.”
Garnett ran a hand over his face, exhaling sharply. “Damn fools kept it in suspended animation. Didn’t kill it. Didn’t destroy the bunker. Just locked the bastard in, sealed it beneath the water, and prayed to whatever gods they still believed in that it never woke up.”
Declan leaned back, rubbing his temple. “And now it’s waking up.”
Celeste’s voice was eerily calm. “And it wants out.”
The Descent into Blackwater Lagoon
The waters were black, thick with silt and secrecy, the weight of history pressing down on the lagoon like a grave that refused to stay sealed. The dive was set, and time was against them—if the Seraphim moved first, Sugar Bay would never know what truly lurked beneath.
Declan Cross checked his gear, his fingers steady despite the tension coiling in his chest. Milinah adjusted the straps on her oxygen tank, eyes sharp with determination. Garnett, grizzled and quiet, stood beside them, his worn diving suit telling stories he had long refused to speak aloud.
Celeste stood near the dock, hands stuffed into her coat pockets as she stared at the water. She didn’t need to say a word—they all knew what was down there. They just didn’t know if they’d live to tell about it.
Declan locked eyes with Garnett. “You ever breach a bunker before?”
Garnett grunted, securing his mask. “Son, I’ve broken into places people pretend don’t exist.”
Milinah smirked. “We countin’ this one?”
Garnett exhaled, stepping forward. “I will when it kills me.”
Declan clipped his regulator in place. “Let’s hope you save that for another job.”
Silent Entry
The lagoon swallowed them whole.
The pressure beneath the surface was immense, a slow, crushing force that wrapped around their bodies like a warning. The deeper they descended, the darker the water became—until the shadow of steel emerged from the abyss.
There it was. The bunker.
Sealed, rusted, forgotten.
Except it wasn’t forgotten.
Declan motioned for Garnett to move forward. Milinah followed closely, her gloved hand trailing along the bunker’s surface, brushing away decades of sediment. The markings were still there. The Nazi insignia, the reinforced plating, the evidence of something buried too deep to be found.
Until now.
Garnett pulled a magnetic pulse cutter from his suit—an ingenious little piece of military tech, designed to trigger locks without causing blast vibrations. A quiet way in. A way to slip past whatever was waiting inside.
Declan gave the signal.
Garnett pressed the device against the hatch. The pulse whined, the steel shuddered, and then—the lock disengaged.
The door drifted open.
And then…
The Super Soldier Awakens
The bunker was not empty.
A whisper of movement—fast, precise, planned.
Declan turned first, his hand instinctively grabbing for his knife even though he knew it wouldn’t be enough.
A shadow moved in the water, controlled despite the weightlessness of the depths. It knew they were coming. It had prepared.
Before Declan could signal a retreat, the soldier attacked.
Milinah barely had time to react before a hand—bare, impossibly strong—wrapped around her wrist, twisting with a grip meant to break bone. She yanked free, bubbles erupting around her as she kicked back, heart hammering.
Garnett turned, reaching for his blade, but the soldier was already on him. A single, brutal strike knocked the weapon from his grasp, sending it spiraling into the abyss.
Declan moved next—a calculated move, a split-second decision.
He lunged, grabbing the soldier’s breathing line, yanking hard.
The figure didn’t flinch.
Instead, it turned—and its eyes burned through the darkness.
Cold.
Unyielding.
Aware.
This was not a mindless brute.
This was a predator.
And it was escaping.
With a powerful kick, the soldier propelled itself upward, shooting toward the surface with terrifying speed.
Declan pushed after it—too late.
The vault door slammed back into place, the current shifting violently around them.
They had lost it.
Whatever had been trapped inside that bunker for decades—
Was now free.
The Surface Break
Declan and Milinah broke the surface seconds later, gasping for air as Garnett emerged behind them, his breathing ragged.
Celeste stood at the dock, eyes wide, fists clenched. “Where is it?”
Declan pulled off his mask, chest heaving. “Gone.”
Milinah shook water from her face, her voice barely a whisper. “It was waiting for us.”
Celeste cursed under her breath, her gaze darting toward the far end of the lagoon—toward the trees where something could be watching.
Garnett wiped his face, voice hoarse. “You don’t understand,” he muttered. “That thing… whatever it is…”
He swallowed hard.
“It was never meant to wake up.”
The Aftermath
The super soldier had escaped. Decades of silence shattered in a single moment.
Now, Viktor Drachensturm was somewhere in Sugar Bay.
And the Seraphim would stop at nothing to contain him.
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