Page 3

Six months later

Pacific Horizon Research Institute

K endra Ellison’s eyes lit up as she watched the screen, excitement bubbling as she realized what she was seeing. Two male great white sharks, JX-170 and NX-642, were swimming together again after a two-year separation. They had been tagged five years earlier, spotted off the San Francisco coast just weeks apart. Kendra had been part of the tagging teams for both sharks, an experience she still considered one of the highlights of her budding career. They were large for males, and not the younger juveniles they were accustomed to. JX was actually their largest male on record.

For three years, the great whites had traveled the Pacific Ocean together eventually parting ways. Now, the pair had reunited, their sleek bodies cutting through the water side by side, or so the blips read. It was a moment that left her in awe, a reminder of the ocean’s mysteries and the bonds that even its most formidable creatures could form.

So far, these friendships had only been observed in male great whites. Female relationships remained an enigma, and even the dynamics among males were only partially understood. The sharks appeared to hunt together, but much more research was needed to unravel the full complexity of their interactions.

Kendra was proud to be part of Dr. Stirling’s exploration of the unique relationships between sharks. It was groundbreaking and innovative. She was living her dream and the sighting of these two sharks reconnecting would push their research forward.

Were they friends, family? Was there a further bond science didn’t understand?

Kendra’s cell phone chirped, pulling her from her thoughts.

“You going out today?” a familiar voice asked.

“Yeah, I’m heading to Fort Point.”

“Want shredder company?”

“You wish, you old salt,” she teased. “See you there in an hour.”

“I’m hurt,” he replied with mock indignation. “Heading out now, and I’ll teach you a thing or two if you’re lucky.”

Kendra didn’t reply. She was already focused on documenting her findings for Dr. Graham Stirling. He wouldn’t be in until noon, but she wanted him to have the data waiting when he arrived.

The waves were calling, and she grabbed her gear as soon as she finished the note. It looked like she wouldn’t be riding them alone today and she felt the thrill even before leaving the lab.

She had chosen Fort Point on the fly because the sharks had pinged about ten miles away. None of the other tagged great whites appeared to be in the area, making it the perfect spot for a bit of surfing.

Fort Point was her favorite for a reason. The left-breaking waves and jagged rocks kept the kooks away. Only seasoned wave maniacs dared to take on its breaks, and she loved the challenge. Today promised not only solid waves but also a chance to imagine the life of the sharks she’d been tracking, a rare combination that had her adrenaline building.

Kendra navigated through the Presidio, winding down Long Avenue to Marine Drive before pulling into the parking lot beside the fort. The murky weather draped the Golden Gate Bridge in a hauntingly beautiful shroud, a mesmerizing view that momentarily stilled her thoughts. She jumped out of her Outback and swung open the hatch, pulling out her gear.

She was dressed in thermal leggings and a moisture-wicking top, her go-to base layer for chilly days like this. San Francisco might not have the warmth of L.A.’s sun-soaked beaches, but it had her heart. The Bay Area, with all its raw edges and breathtaking vistas, was where she felt most alive.

After a quick round of stretches, she flipped her wetsuit inside out, preparing to slip it on. Starting with her legs, she eased the neoprene up, feeling its familiar resistance. At her hips, she adjusted the material carefully before pulling it snug over her torso. A few tugs here and there ensured a perfect fit, the wetsuit becoming a second skin, readying her for the cold embrace of the Pacific.

She slid one arm at a time through the wetsuit's sleeves, her hands gliding into place with practiced ease. A few quick adjustments smoothed the neoprene over her shoulders and chest. Securing the zipper with a firm tug, she folded the flap into position, ensuring a good seal. Finally, she double-checked the zipper, running her fingers over the area to make sure everything lay flat, ready to keep out the frigid Pacific.

Kendra paused, her gaze shifting to the waves rolling in with steady rhythm. The energy of the ocean always calmed her, even as it built her anticipation. Just then, the rumble of another car broke her focus. A familiar face. William pulled into the lot, his hand lifting in a casual wave.

She grabbed her surfboard from the rack, its weight comforting in her hands, and began waxing it with deliberate strokes. The repetitive motion grounded her, the sticky texture of the wax a palpable connection to what lay ahead. From the corner of her eye, she watched William emerge from his car and start his own pre-surf ritual, mirroring the steps she had just completed. She didn’t rush him, content in the quiet companionship of having a surf buddy for the morning.

A handful of other surfers were already out, bobbing in the lineup beyond the break. She glanced at the small cluster of vehicles in the lot, none of them familiar. She likely didn’t know the other surfers, but that didn’t bother her; the ocean always felt like neutral ground.

“You set?” William called as he finished waxing his board and tucked the bar back into his gear bag.

“I’ve been ready since before you showed up, you old fart,” Kendra teased, grinning as she adjusted the leash on her ankle. She turned her face into the breeze, the sharp chill biting against her cheeks. Even in August, the windchill at the Point was relentless, a constant reminder that San Francisco never played by the same sunny rules as L.A. But that was part of its charm. The colder, harsher edges of the Bay Area had become as much a part of her as the ocean itself.

William shook his head, his lips curling into a knowing grin at Kendra’s playful mockery. Without a word, he took off at a jog toward the water, and she followed, matching his pace. The energy of the morning charged the air between them, a shared thrill of what lay ahead.

The first steps into the water sent a sharp chill slicing through their wetsuits. The cold was bracing but familiar, a momentary shock before their bodies adjusted. As the thin layer of water trapped inside their suits warmed, the insulating effect kicked in, easing the discomfort. With steady paddling, their muscles warmed, and the ocean became an extension of their bodies. In no time, they reached the lineup, joining the other surfers poised to catch their first waves of the day.

A guy from the lineup waved, catching Kendra’s attention. She recognized him from past sessions, his face vaguely familiar under the morning haze. She nodded back with a smile, then glanced over her shoulder. A clean wave was forming behind her, its rise promising a good ride. She held back, not one to dominate the break, and watched as the guy caught the wave with ease.

Kendra turned her gaze back to the horizon, anticipation humming in her veins. The rhythmic push and pull of the ocean guided her focus, sharpening her senses. Then she saw it. A smooth, rising swell rolling toward her with unrelenting energy. Her heart raced. This was the one.

She paddled hard, the burn in her arms growing as the wave surged closer. When the energy of the swell lifted her board, it was as though the ocean had locked onto her, drawing her into its power. Her nerves flickered, excitement bubbling over as she committed. With a decisive motion, she popped to her feet, her movements fluid and confident.

The connection was instantaneous. The wave gripped her board, and gravity pulled her into its momentum. In that moment, she wasn’t just riding the wave, she was part of it. The sensation was pure magic.

She flew across the water, her board carving into the face of the wave with precision. The wind whipped past her, cool against her cheeks. The thunderous roar of the wave filled her ears, drowning out everything but the pulse of the ocean beneath her. Leaning into a turn, she sliced through the water with effortless grace, her body instinctively syncing with the wave’s rhythm.

Time stretched, each second feeling infinite yet fleeting. The wave began to crest, a shimmering wall of water lifting her higher before starting to fade. There was no barrel this time, but it didn’t matter. She let out a cry of pure exhilaration, the joy of the ride washing over her like sunlight breaking through clouds.

When the wave finally dissipated, Kendra kicked out, her board slicing cleanly through the water. Her heart thundered, her body buzzing with the afterglow of the ride. This was the moment she lived for; intimate, fleeting, and powerful. Paddling back out, she scanned the horizon, eager for the next wave. The ocean, with its infinite energy and untamed beauty, always had more to give.

This wasn’t just surfing; this was her celebration of life, her communion with the raw, untouchable force of nature.

William wasn’t far behind, catching a wave not long after hers. She glanced back and saw him carving through the water, his form confident and fluid. The sight spurred her competitive streak. With a playful grin, Kendra stretched out her arms and paddled hard, every stroke fueled by the determination to beat him back to the lineup.

She reached the spot first, her breath coming fast but her spirits high. Moments later, William joined her, shaking his head with a laugh. His exhilaration was written all over his face, a reflection of the same joy coursing through her.

“Not bad,” he said, leaning back on his board as he caught his breath. “But you’re gonna need more than a head start to stay ahead of me.”

Kendra smirked, water dripping from her hair. “Keep dreaming, old man. You’ll be lucky to keep up.”

Their friendly banter floated on the breeze as they turned to scan the horizon once more. The waves kept rolling in, each one a new opportunity, and neither of them was about to let the other take the next ride uncontested.

The impact came without warning; sudden, violent, and utterly disorienting. Kendra’s board pitched sharply to one side, nearly throwing her off. For a split second, the world dissolved into chaos, the ocean erupting around her in frothy, churning violence. The familiar rhythm of the waves was gone, replaced by a primal force that felt hostile and unforgiving.

Then came the pain. It was searing, an agony that tore through her leg with merciless ferocity. She realized too late what was happening. The shark’s jaws clamped down, its razor-sharp teeth slicing through the wetsuit and deep into her flesh. The pressure was unimaginable, a crushing, vice-like grip that sent shockwaves through her body and shattered her focus.

Another bite followed, this time on her side, but the agony and pull on her leg didn’t stop. The predator’s teeth tore through her like jagged knives, ripping away not only flesh but the fragile tether of reality. The agony blurred into something otherworldly, surreal in its intensity.

The water turned red in an instant, a cloud of crimson blooming around her, vivid against the churning surf. It rose toward the surface, even as she was pulled deeper. Her ears filled with the relentless pounding of her heartbeat, and she screamed; a raw, guttural sound swallowed instantly by the water. Salt stung her nose and throat as she inhaled a panicked gulp of seawater. Her body convulsed, every instinct screaming to fight, to survive, but the attack was too quick, too brutal.

Her hands flailed uselessly, striking nothing but water. The leash of her board tugged against her ankle, a cruel reminder of what she was leaving behind. In her last moments of awareness, she saw the faint outline of the board floating above her, growing blurrier with each second as the shark dragged her deeper into the abyss.

The pain dulled, her body succumbing to shock. She was barely conscious when the predator gave a final, bone-shaking thrash. Something else struck her, hard, unrelenting, but Kendra didn’t register it. The darkness had already taken her.

She was gone. The ocean, indifferent and unforgiving, swallowed the evidence of her struggle as if it had never happened.