The mercenaries spread through the ship, flashlights slicing the dark. Harper and Victor slipped through shadowed corridors.
“They’re after Hold 7,” he warned.
“Then we stop them,” Harper replied.
“No,” Victor said. “We sink the Aurora Bell. Take the treasure down with it.”
Seventy-five million dollars—gone. Harper thought of her mother’s medical bills, of the life this fortune could save. But she also heard the threat etched in steel: WE ARE COMING.
By the time they reached the lower decks, the mercenaries had already breached the vault. Crates of stolen masterpieces glittered in the beam of their flashlights. Harper’s heart ached, but she understood—some riches only invite ruin.
Her decision came fast. She sprinted to the engine room, pulling levers and releasing valves she had memorized during her nights of exploration. Metal screamed as seawater roared into the ship.
Gunfire echoed. Victor fought to hold the men back as the water climbed past their knees.
“Go!” he shouted.
They fled upward as the Aurora Bell shuddered violently. Furniture skidded across decks, chandeliers crashed, and the ship tilted toward its grave.
Rain slashed Harper’s face as she and Victor cut the ropes of the last lifeboat. Lightning flashed across the ballroom windows, revealing what looked like shadowy passengers watching silently from another age. Then the Aurora Bell groaned, split, and vanished beneath the storm.
By dawn, the sea was calm again. Exhausted and soaked, Harper collapsed on the shore. Victor sat beside her, bleeding but alive.
“It had to be done,” he said quietly. “Some things aren’t meant to be found.”
Weeks later, Harper returned to her garage job, grease on her hands and bills still stacking on the counter. Life hadn’t magically changed—but she had. She no longer dreamed of salvation through treasure. She had faced greed and walked away.
Sometimes at night, she imagined the Aurora Bell resting on the ocean floor, its secrets finally at peace. And though part of her still mourned what was lost, another part whispered the truth she’d earned in blood and saltwater:
Not every ship is meant to be saved. Some are meant to be left behind.