The Depth Beneath Still Water
The Depth Beneath Still Water
The harbor was cloaked in a ghostly morning fog.
Gray clouds hovered low, brushing the tips of fishing boats. Seagulls circled above, crying into the wind, their wings slicing through the sky like warnings. The dock creaked under Isabella’s boots as she stepped carefully onto the old wooden planks, her pulse echoing in her ears with every step.
She checked the time. 9:58 a.m.
Two minutes early.
She scanned the rows of boats bobbing silently in the water. The air smelled like salt, rust, and engine oil. Faint footsteps echoed somewhere behind her, but when she turned, there was no one.
Julian had told her to come alone.
And she had.
Sort of.
In her purse was the small recording device Camila had slipped her last night, insisting, “Just in case things get weird.”
Isabella’s fingers touched the switch inside her pocket now, flicking it on.
Footsteps again—this time louder, heavier.
She turned just as Julian emerged from between two boats, a hood over his head and his face pale under the thin morning light.
“Where’s your car?” she asked quietly.
“Parked two blocks up,” he replied. “Didn’t want anyone seeing us meet.”
“Is anyone following you?”
Julian looked around, fidgeting. “Not today. But they’re watching. Everything.”
Isabella exhaled slowly. “What’s going on?”
Julian stepped closer. “I wasn’t completely honest. There’s something I didn’t tell you when I brought the donor files.”
She stiffened. “You’re not seriously about to—”
“I made a deal,” he said, cutting her off. “Months ago. Before I knew how deep it all ran.”
“What kind of deal?”
“I was broke, Isa. After my last job let me go, I had nothing. I was approached by someone on Muñoz’s team. They offered me money to watch you. To feed them updates on what you were working on. Your contacts. Your plans.”
Her stomach twisted.
“You spied on me?”
“I didn’t think it would go this far,” Julian said. “They said it was precautionary. That you had something they needed to keep tabs on. But when I saw what they were actually hiding—what the foundation really did—I backed out.”
Isabella’s voice dropped to a near whisper. “You lied to me.”
“I’ve been trying to make it right ever since.”
“No, Julian. You don’t make right something like this with a sorry and a few files.”
“I was scared—”
“So was I!” she shouted, her voice cracking against the water. “I trusted you. You slept in my bed, kissed me, touched me, looked me in the eyes and made me think I wasn’t alone in this—and the whole time, you were feeding them pieces of me?”
Julian’s face contorted with regret. “I fell for you. That’s the truth. I didn’t expect it. I tried to stop. I tried to fix it—”
“But you didn’t stop,” she snapped. “And now Camila’s life is in danger. Because of you.”
Julian’s mouth opened, but before he could speak, a sharp click echoed behind them.
They both froze.
Isabella turned slowly to see a tall man in a long black coat, standing at the edge of the dock. A gun rested loosely in his hand, angled down—casual but deadly.
“I’d say that’s far enough,” the man said.
Julian stiffened. “Luca…”
Isabella recognized the name. Luca Vasquez. One of Muñoz’s longtime campaign “strategists”—also the man rumored to handle the parts of the job no one spoke about.
“I warned you, Julian,” Luca said calmly. “You had one job.”
Julian stepped forward. “She deserves to know the truth.”
“No,” Luca replied. “She deserved to disappear months ago. You’re the one who grew a conscience at the wrong time.”
Isabella’s mind was racing.
Every option—every move—had to be precise.
Luca lifted the gun slightly. “Unfortunately, your redemption arc ends here.”
Isabella moved fast—too fast for thought. She grabbed Julian by the arm, pulling him sideways just as the gun went off.
The shot split the air like a whip.
Splinters exploded from the post beside her head.
Julian swore, grabbing her hand. “Come on!”
They ran, feet pounding against soaked wood, breath ragged. Another shot rang out, but this one hit the water beside them.
Julian dragged her behind a stack of fishing crates. “He won’t chase us into the boatyard.”
“I have a recorder,” she panted. “It’s on. It got everything.”
Julian blinked. “You planned for this?”
“Camila did.”
He looked at her, blood on his cheek where a splinter had grazed him. “You’re insane.”
“I’m prepared,” she growled.
Voices shouted in the distance—other men now, probably part of Luca’s crew.
“We have to move,” Julian said. “This way.”
They climbed over a locked gate and dropped into a side alley that led to the road. Julian’s car was parked at the curb, just where he’d said.
They jumped in, slammed the doors, and sped off before the tires could lose grip on the rain-slick street.
Neither of them spoke for the first three blocks.
Then Julian said, “I deserve whatever you want to do to me. But please, don’t stop now. They’re scared. That’s why they’re acting reckless. They know you’re close.”
Isabella stared out the window, jaw clenched, her body trembling from adrenaline and betrayal.
“You said you wanted to make it right,” she muttered.
“I do.”
She turned to him. “Then give me the real files. The backups. The offshore accounts. Everything.”
Julian nodded. “They’re encrypted in a cloud drive. I’ll send the link.”
“And after that?”
“I leave,” he said. “For good.”
She didn’t answer.
She wasn’t sure whether she’d forgive him. Or ever want to see him again.
But she knew this much:
The game had changed.
They had threatened her family. Pulled guns. Set traps.
They were done playing nice.
And now, Isabella was done being afraid.
They wanted war?
She’d give them fire.