He stood and walked toward the back wall, the one hidden behind old shelving stacked with boxes of holiday decorations.
He leaned close to me and whispered, “They think we’re trapped. But they don’t know what’s behind this wall.”
I stared at him.
“What are you talking about?”
Upstairs, voices argued. Then I heard it.
Daniel’s voice.
But not confident. Not cold.
Panicked.
As if something was unraveling.
Michael crouched near the floor and pressed against a specific brick.
A hollow sound answered.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
Before I could ask another question, footsteps thundered down the basement stairs.
The door shook violently. The key turned.
Michael pushed hard against the shelving.
With a sharp crack, part of the wall shifted.
A hidden panel rotated inward.
A dark opening appeared.
“A tunnel?” I breathed.
“Go,” he whispered urgently.
The basement door burst open just as I crawled into the narrow passage. Michael slipped in behind me, pulling the wall back into place. The beam of a flashlight swept across the basement.
“Where did they go?!” one of the men shouted.
We moved through damp earth, hunched and shaking. The tunnel opened into a small reinforced room.