The sun blazed high over Bondi Beach, casting a golden shimmer across the ocean’s surface and illuminating the fine grains of sand that stretched from North to South. It was one of the busiest days of the week, the kind of day where the lifeguards were spread thin—some stationed up in the tower scanning the horizon, others patrolling the sand with first-aid kits slung over their shoulders, and a few weaving between sunbathers and umbrellas on the Rhino.

Maxi was positioned on the north end of the beach, his rescue board resting against his hip as he kept a sharp eye on the swimmers and surfers dotting the waves. His years of experience told him this was the kind of day where things could go wrong fast—a deceptive calm hiding the power of shifting tides beneath the surface.

He scanned the water methodically, but his attention snagged on a familiar face.

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He’d noticed her a few times over the past week—a girl with a quiet smile a sun-kissed presence who always seemed content to linger near the shoreline, book in hand or toes in the foam. There was something about her that tugged at him, and though they hadn’t spoken, he’d caught himself hoping for an excuse to change that.

He never imagined the excuse would come like this.

His eyes narrowed as he saw her farther out than usual, caught in the churning water near Backpackers Rip—a notorious spot known for its swift, sucking current. From the tower, it might have looked like any other swimmer, but Maxi recognized the way her strokes faltered, the panic just starting to creep into her movements.

His instincts kicked in before he could think.

Board in hand, Maxi surged forward, slicing through the sand toward the water, the chaos of the beach falling away behind him.