Chapter 33 Time Bends to No Man
Desi burst through the surface of the raging sea, gasping for breath as a wave crashed over her, flooding her mouth with salt.
The world above was chaos. Angry clouds boiled like a witch’s brew, their jagged lightning illuminating the blackened sky in ghastly flashes.
Wind howled across the open water, shredding the waves into spindrift that lashed her face.
Kicking hard against the heaving swells, she spun in every direction, panic clawing at her chest until she spotted the faint outline of the Sea Starr bouncing in the distance. Relief surged, and then it hit her like a cannonball.
She was home.
And Caleb was long since dead.
The truth hollowed her out from the inside. A pain so raw it nearly drowned her more than the sea itself. He’d given up everything—his vow to his father, his happiness, his future—for her. For Daria. And now she had to do the same.
Another surge of water slammed into her, and she shoved the regulator back into her mouth, tightened her mask, and dove beneath the waves. She swallowed back fear, flicked on her dive light, and let the storm swallow her whole as she descended into the deep.
A single thought struck terror through her—what if the Sentinel was gone? What if she’d altered time itself and erased the wreck she’d come to find?
Her heart thudded in her ears as she finned downward through the churning gloom. The water grew darker, colder, quieter. At last, the familiar ledge of coral loomed from the shadows, its edges gleaming faintly beneath her light. She angled her beam along its spine. And there it was.
The shattered bones of the ship she’d come to love. The ship on whose sturdy decks she’d stood upon just seconds before.
Her breath steadied, but her heart cracked anew.
The outline of the once proud brigantine lay strewn across the seabed, a ghost bleached by time.
Yet as she drew closer, a strange peace settled over her.
This wreck, this grave, felt more like home than the world above.
It was where her heart had lived and died.
Forcing herself to focus, she guided her beam toward the familiar crevice in the reef. There, the Ring. Encrusted with algae and coral, almost swallowed by time. Anyone else would have missed it entirely. But she would know it anywhere.
In the silt below glimmered her old collection tube and tweezers—relics from another dive, another life. She scooped them up, and with trembling hands, pried the Ring free from its stony cradle.
No shimmer of light. No shift in the water. The world held its breath, unchanged.
A pang of despair clawed at her throat. She wanted to squeeze the Ring, to beg it to take her back—to him. But she didn’t. With a small, defeated exhale, she slipped it into the tube, sealed it tight, and pressed it to her chest.
Then against everything within her, she kicked for the surface.
This is what you wanted, she told herself. Then why did it feel like an agonizing loss?
“You nearly got us all killed out there!” Camila’s voice chased Desi through the doorway of Ocean’s Echo, sharp as a whip crack against the hum of the air conditioner.
“Yet, here we are, alive and well.” Desi pushed past her, dripping seawater onto the worn teak floor as she headed for the back. The briny scent of the ocean still clung to her hair and skin, mingling with the faint notes of salt, rubber, and machine oil that perfumed the shop.
Behind the counter, Pumpkin-haired Nova didn’t glance up from her phone, her neon nails tapping out a rhythm of disinterest. Typical.
Out on the dock, Chad was supposedly hosing down the Sea Starr and stowing gear below deck, but knowing him, he’d be halfway to the tiki bar by now.
And of course, it hadn’t been Ethan at the helm.
The ache of that truth pressed like a weight against her ribs.
Camila followed her into the equipment room, planting her hands on her hips. “The storm got so bad, Chad wanted to leave you there. If not for me, he might’ve. I saved your life, you know.”
Desi dropped her duffel onto the bench with a wet thud and turned. The Puerto Rican’s glossy curls framed her beautiful, defiant face as her dark brows lifted in accusation, but there was something softer beneath the fire, a flicker of need that tempered Desi’s irritation.
“Thank you, Camila.” Desi reached out and squeezed her arm. “Honestly, I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’re an excellent diver, a sharp navigator, and unshakable under pressure.”
Camila blinked, surprise lighting her eyes. “You mean it?”
“I do.” Desi managed a tired smile. “And I’m sorry I haven’t said it before.”
She’d always known Camila thrived on praise, but Desi had held back, wary of feeding Camila’s already formidable confidence. Now, after everything Desi had lost—and all she’d seen—such prideful caution felt meaningless. Camila could be exasperating, yes, but she was loyal. She deserved to know it.
Camila’s expression softened, and for a rare moment, she smiled without artifice. “That means a lot, Desi. Thank you.” Then her gaze flicked toward the damp wetsuit clinging to Desi’s frame. “You got it, right?”
Desi nodded. She didn’t trust her voice. She couldn’t bear to pull out the Ring. Not yet. The sight of it would undo her.
“Great.” Camila’s tone brightened. “I’ll call Briar and set up a meeting first thing in the morning.”
“Just let me know when.” Desi reached for a towel and raked it through her dripping hair. “I’m going to check on my sister and then get some sleep. Can you make sure…”—she nodded toward the front room—“that girl stays until closing?”
Camila tilted her head. “Nova? Sure thing.”
Desi managed a weary grin, then turned away before her friend could see the flicker of grief that clouded her eyes.
Daria was worse.
It had only been a single day in real time since Desi last saw her, but the doctor said she was fading faster than anyone expected. What else could possibly go wrong?
Desi gripped her sister’s hand. Her skin felt like cold paper, the pulse beneath it a faint flutter that barely whispered of life. She’d been sitting here for over an hour, watching the steady rhythm of machines, the same sterile stillness, yet Daria hadn’t stirred.
The doctor had warned her she might not wake again. At least, not fully. Not ever.
Her once beautiful sister lay shrunken beneath the white sheets, her body all sharp angles and shadows.
Blue veins webbed through translucent skin.
Her lips were colorless, her eyelids bruised with purple crescents.
The soft hiss of oxygen and the rhythmic beep…
beep…beep of the monitor filled the room, each sound marking time’s slow cruelty. The air reeked of antiseptic and fear.
Desi swallowed hard, fighting the rising sting in her throat.
When the first tear slipped free, it startled her. She so rarely cried, the wetness felt foreign on her cheeks. Yet they came anyway—silent, relentless—until her vision blurred and her chest ached. So much loss. Caleb… and now Daria.
But she couldn’t break. Not now.
She had the Ring.
Tomorrow, she would sell it to Briar. She’d make sure the money hit her account immediately, then call Dr. Drummond to confirm she could pay for the transplant and every medication her sister would need to stay alive.
If only a kidney became available in time.
Her gaze drifted to the ceiling, to the harsh fluorescent lights humming above. Hope and a prayer, she thought. The phrase came unbidden, and she almost laughed. Prayer? That was Caleb’s doing. The man had lived by faith, fought by faith, loved by faith.
A man of God.
A God she no longer believed in.
But maybe… maybe she should.
Back in her room above Ocean’s Echo, Desi dropped her keys onto the dresser, the metallic clatter echoing through the stillness. She collapsed onto the bed, too weary to kick off her shoes. Her mind spun in circles; her heart throbbed with an ache that refused to ease.
Traveling through time again and again had taken more from her than she’d imagined. It gnawed at her, body and soul. Once, she’d been the strong one—the fearless diver, the woman who faced the sea head-on and always came back smiling. The one whom people leaned on.
Now she felt lost. Unmoored.
She turned her head toward the familiar walls—the driftwood shelf, the framed photographs, the shells and relics she’d collected over the years. They’d once comforted her, reminders of a life she’d built with her own hands. Now, they seemed foreign. The room itself seemed foreign.
She no longer belonged here.
Maybe she never had.
Snap out of it, Desi. She pressed her palms to her eyes. Daria. Focus on saving Daria. That was all that mattered.
Across the room, the Ring sat inside the collection bottle on her desk, still encrusted with coral and barnacles, yet faintly gleaming beneath the glass. It seemed to pulse, beckoning her, daring her to touch it, to dive again, to return to him.
Her throat tightened. Caleb.
But she couldn’t. Not now. She had to give it to Briar. It was the only way to save her sister. And once she did, she would lose Caleb forever.
Desi sat upright, heart pounding. Was she imagining it, or was the Ring truly glowing?
She crossed the room in a rush, snatched the bottle, and held it to the lamplight. The crusted metal seemed to hum beneath the glass, as if aware of her gaze. It’s real, she thought. It has power. She’d seen that power with her own eyes—power over life, over death, over time itself.
But what did Briar want with it?
Did he know what it could do?
She’d never asked. Never wanted to ask. But now, knowing he was a Montverre, a descendant of the man who had hunted Caleb, dread pooled like cold water in her stomach.
Ethan had sensed it, had warned her about Briar. Ethan, with his quiet faith and steady eyes. The memory of him made her sigh. How she missed him.
Desi moved to the window and looked out over the marina. The sea rocked the boats in a slow, mournful rhythm, their masts creaking in the wind. Thick clouds smothered the moon and stars, cloaking the night in darkness.
Was she about to trade her sister’s life for a tide of destruction she couldn’t even imagine?
She rubbed her temples, her thoughts spinning like storm currents. Everything, everyone, hung in the balance. Decisions that could alter not just lives, but time itself.
Her gaze drifted to her grandfather’s old sea chest in the corner. The journal. Maybe, somehow, it held an answer.
She pulled it out and sat cross-legged on the bed.
Her fingers trembled as she opened it and studied the drawing taped to the inside cover, an image of the original journal, a cross imprinted on the leather cover.
She flipped to the first page, then the second—the same familiar words.
Swallowing hard, she turned another page, hoping—pleading—for more.
Ink shimmered on the next leaf, as though appearing from nowhere. Desi’s breath caught. Words began to form.
I arrived in the midst of another battle, a storm raging above us while cannon fire blasted across the sea.
The marquis hunted us, his eye upon the Ring, his guns set to destruction.
But there stood the captain, boots braced upon the heaving deck, coat flapping in the wind, a force to be reckoned with—powerful and commanding as he ordered his crew to task.
A shot thundered, and once again, his warmth and strength surrounded me, left me breathless.
I was home. His touch, his kiss brought every inch of me back to life as if I’d only just woken from a long sleep. How can I leave him now?
The crew lies stricken by a curse no mortal doctor can break. The trap is set. The marquis’ guns surround us, ready to send us to the depths. Is this to be his fate? And mine as well?
Then…he calls upon Almighty God. No trace of doubt rings in his voice, but faith, fierce and powerful, reaching all the way to Heaven, calling down a promise made…in a name above all names.
The sea itself trembles. The curse shatters. The crew delivered. There is a God, after all. And perhaps… He even hears me.
The Ring is in my palm. The Sentinel bucks and reels beneath me, sails snapping, timbers groaning, cannons thundering. Mighty guns roar through the sky.
He is before me, eyes burning with a love fierce enough to defy heaven itself. A love I never knew existed. One that sacrificed all for another. No one had ever loved me like that.
How could I leave him again?
Tears blurred Desi’s vision. The ink swam before her eyes, and then, impossibly, new words began to form, one by one, faint as breath on glass, written by an invisible hand. She blinked, wiped her face. The lines wavered, shimmered. And vanished.
Gone.
As though the rest of the story had yet to be written.
Or perhaps, this was the end.
The end of his story.
The end of hers.