Etien shot down into the depths like a spear fired from a bow. His back and arm muscles tensed as he moved with powerful, precise strokes, every motion slicing through the water with trained efficiency. Years of discipline had carved his body into something formidable: broad shoulders, a solid chest, and abs still visible despite the water's distortions. A perfect picture of the Duke of the South, who hadn't touched the deep sea in nearly two years.
In his right hand, he gripped a long net rod Reiner had brought from the mansion. His sharp gaze tracked the school of fish darting between rocks and swaying seagrass. He struck. The water churned. But when he pulled the net back, it was empty. The first fish had slipped away with ridiculous ease. He lunged again, holding his breath, focus unwavering. Twice. Three times. Each attempt snatched nothing but bubbles, trapping only his patience. But Etien wasn't the type to quit.
