I gripped the wheel of the small fishing boat, the salty breeze hitting my face as the engine hummed steadily beneath me. I'd done this countless times before, guiding tourists to a remote island for diving and relaxation. But something about today felt different.

The sky was clear, a perfect shade of blue, but the water... it had an odd stillness to it, almost like it was waiting for something. I glanced behind me at the group of passengers sitting on the deck. They were talking, laughing, unaware of the tension I could feel creeping up my spine.

"Hey, how much longer?" Mark called out from the back, his voice casual but eager.

"About an hour," I replied, trying to keep my tone steady. "You'll love this place. Quiet. Beautiful. No one around for miles."

The others nodded in agreement. They'd hired me for a weekend getaway—just a break from their busy lives. They didn't care about the island's history or the strange stories that surrounded it. They just wanted peace and quiet. I didn't mind. The pay was good, and the island... it always felt like the perfect escape.

"Do you think we'll see any sharks?" Sarah, the marine biologist, asked from the other side of the boat. She had a glint in her eye that told me she wasn't just asking for curiosity's sake.

"Maybe," I said, flashing her a grin. "I've seen a few pass by here over the years. But don't worry—they're not interested in us. Stay near the shallows, and you'll be fine."

I shouldn't have said it. The words hung in the air for a moment longer than they should've, and the unsettling feeling in my gut worsened. I'd been sailing these waters for years, and I had a feeling I'd be regretting my choice of words before the day was out.

The boat hummed along as we neared the island. From a distance, it looked perfect—covered in dense jungle, untouched by human hands, with jagged cliffs rising along its edge. I'd been there before. It was remote, beautiful, and calm. The perfect spot for a getaway.

But as we got closer, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. The water was calm, but it had an unusual dark sheen to it. Something felt off, like there was more lurking beneath the surface. I tried to push the thought away.

When we reached the shore, the engine sputtered and died.

"What the hell?" I muttered under my breath, twisting the key again. Nothing. The boat was dead in the water.

"Seriously?" Mark asked, his voice full of disbelief.

"I don't know," I said, frustration creeping into my tone. "The fuel's fine. The engine just... died."

Sarah leaned over to look at the engine. "Can you fix it?" she asked, her voice laced with concern.

"I'll try in the morning. Right now, we're stuck here," I said, peering toward the island. "We'll have to swim to shore."

The others exchanged uneasy glances. Swimming to the island wasn't ideal, but it was the only option. We all slipped on life vests, and one by one, we jumped into the water. The saltwater stung my skin as I made my way toward the shore, but it wasn't far. As I swam, though, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching us from beneath the waves. The water felt heavy, as if it held a secret just out of reach.

When we reached the shore, I felt a strange sense of relief. At least we were on solid ground, but the sinking feeling in my gut didn't go away. The island was still as beautiful as I remembered, but there was something different about it this time. It felt... off. The jungle stretched ahead, dark and thick. The shore was rocky, the beach small, but it felt like it was waiting for us. Like it had been waiting for a long time.

"We made it," Emily said, sounding relieved as she stepped onto the sand, wiping seawater from her face. "It's not so bad, right?"

I didn't answer. I was too busy staring at the water. I couldn't put my finger on it, but something felt wrong here. The calmness of the water, the stillness of the island... it all seemed too quiet. Too perfect.

"Is the boat fixable?" Sarah asked, glancing over at me.

"I'll check again in the morning," I said, trying to sound confident. But deep down, I wasn't sure if the boat could be fixed at all. We were stuck here for now, and something about that made me uneasy.

"We should make camp for the night," I suggested, wanting to focus on something other than the growing dread in my chest. "It'll be dark soon. We'll figure things out tomorrow."

The others nodded, and we set up a small campfire on the beach. The wind was picking up, but the fire was a welcome warmth against the chill of the evening. As the night fell, the island became more oppressive. The silence was thick, as if the air itself was holding its breath. The only sound was the crackling of the fire and the waves crashing against the shore.

"So, what do you think?" Emily asked, her voice trying to break through the tension. "You were right, it's a nice escape."

"Yeah," I said, though I wasn't convinced. Something about this place didn't sit right. But I didn't want to worry them. They were here for a relaxing weekend, and I didn't want to ruin that.

But as we sat around the fire, the silence of the island was shattered by a sudden, distant cry. It wasn't an animal sound. It was deep and guttural, like something in the jungle was calling out to us.

"What was that?" Mark asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

I froze. I couldn't place it, but I knew it wasn't any animal I had ever heard before. It was... wrong.

"I don't know," I said, trying to mask the unease in my voice. "Could be anything."

But deep down, I knew. Whatever was out there, it wasn't anything good.

The wind picked up again, and the flames of the fire flickered wildly. The island, once serene, now felt like it was holding a secret. One we were about to uncover.

As the echoes of the distant cry faded, I scanned the dark treeline, my chest tightening. The firelight flickered, casting long, dancing shadows across the sand. Whatever had made that noise—it didn't sound natural.

The others must have felt it too because no one spoke for a long time. Mark, usually the loudest, shifted uncomfortably, breaking the silence.

"You think it's some animal?" he asked, looking at me like I had the answer.

"Could be," I replied, keeping my voice steady. "We're on an island. Wild animals aren't out of the question."

Emily, sitting closest to the fire, clutched her knees to her chest. "That didn't sound like any animal I've heard before," she murmured.

I didn't want to admit it, but she was right. I'd been on countless islands, heard my share of strange calls, but this... this was something else entirely.

Sarah, the marine biologist, leaned forward, her eyes narrowed. "If it's an animal, it's got to be big. That sound carried a lot of resonance."

"Let's not jump to conclusions," I said, forcing calm into my voice. "Whatever it is, it's out there, and we're here. We'll stay close to the fire tonight, and I'll check the boat at first light. For now, everyone should get some rest."

But rest didn't come easy.

We didn't have tents—just a few sleeping bags and a tarp. Mark helped me stretch it between two trees, and we set up under it. It wasn't much, but it kept the group together. No one wanted to sleep far from the fire.

I sat near the edge of the camp, keeping watch. The others tried to settle down, their murmurs fading into uneasy silence. The jungle around us stayed eerily quiet, the only sounds coming from the rhythmic crash of the waves.

Every so often, I'd glance at the water. The moon's reflection rippled across the surface, but something about the stillness unnerved me. No fish darting near the shore. No seabirds circling overhead. Just the heavy silence, broken only by the occasional crack of wood in the fire.

Then I saw it—a shadow moving in the water.

At first, I thought it was my imagination. The faint light played tricks sometimes. But no, it was real. A dark, sleek shape glided just beneath the surface, too close to the shore.

Shark.

I leaned forward, my pulse quickening, as the fin broke the surface for a moment before disappearing again. It wasn't unusual to spot sharks around islands like this, but this one was huge.

And it wasn't alone.

A second fin joined the first. Then a third.

I swallowed hard, my grip tightening around the flashlight in my hand. I didn't want to alert the others—they needed rest. Still, I couldn't take my eyes off the water.

The shadows circled, slow and deliberate, like they were testing the boundaries. A part of me wanted to believe they were just curious. Sharks often were. But another part of me knew better.

I sat there, muscles tense, until the shapes disappeared back into the depths. Only then did I breathe again.

The night dragged on. Sleep was out of the question for me. I kept my eyes on the jungle and the water, trying to stay alert for anything unusual. Around me, the others tossed and turned, clearly unsettled despite their exhaustion.

At some point, the fire began to die down, the embers glowing faintly in the dark. I stood to toss more wood onto the flames when I heard it again—the same cry from earlier, only this time, it was closer.

Much closer.