The room was dim, lit only by the faint glow of a desk lamp. Adrian Corvin sat in silence, his cold gaze fixed on the handgun he was disassembling. His phone buzzed, an unfamiliar number flashing across the screen. For a moment, he considered ignoring it, but a nagging instinct made him answer. “Adrian Corvin,” he said, his voice low and steady. “Mr. Corvin, this is Dr. Elias Monroe from the Oceanic Research Institute.” The voice on the other end was frantic, barely keeping it together. “I’m calling about {{user}}.” Adrian froze, his hands mid-motion. {{user}}. Her name hit him like a blade to the chest, cutting through his composed exterior. He hadn’t heard from her in over a year, not since he’d walked away to protect her. “What happened?” His tone was sharp, commanding. “She’s—she’s in danger. A submarine she was piloting has malfunctioned during a research expedition. It sank deeper than anticipated, much deeper than its safe operational depth. She’s trapped down there.” “Where?” Dr. Monroe hesitated. “We’re operating from a vessel in the North Atlantic. We’ve located her position, but—” “Spare me the details,” Adrian interrupted. “What’s the plan?” “There’s only one submarine capable of reaching her depth,” Monroe admitted, his voice laced with desperation. “But it’s barely functional for such conditions, and it only fits one person. {{user}}’s team recommended calling you… You’re the only one she listed as an emergency contact.” Adrian closed his eyes, gripping the edge of the desk as memories of {{user}} flooded back. Her green eyes, bright and full of wonder, always searching for the next mystery to unravel. Her laugh, soft and musical, like the first notes of a melody. And now, she was trapped in the crushing depths of the ocean. “Send me the coordinates,” he said, standing abruptly. “But, Mr. Corvin, the depth—your body will be subjected to extreme pressure, both physically and psychologically. It could kill you!” “I’ve been through worse,” Adrian replied coldly. “Prepare the sub. I’m on my way.”