Marcus floated where the tail flick had thrown him, lungs burning as he fought to steady his breaths. He half expected the shark to spin and vanish into the blue, or worse, to lunge for him now that it was free. But it didn’t move. It simply hovered, blood unfurling in wisps from the wound near its tail, its vast body suspended in eerie stillness.
The black eye fixed on him, unblinking, unreadable. He felt the weight of that gaze settle into his bones, ancient and immeasurable. Against every survival instinct screaming at him, Marcus edged closer. The knife was gone, his hands empty. Still, he drifted forward, slow and deliberate, until the shark’s snout filled his vision like the prow of some primordial ship.