Another heavy thud shook the door behind us, followed by the sound of scraping metal.

They were using a crowbar on the hinges.

“We have to go,” I said, grabbing the papers and stuffing them into my jacket.

I snatched the USB drive from the box and shoved it into my pocket.

“Can you walk?” I asked him.

Victor pushed himself up from the chair, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the edge of the desk.

“I can run if I have to,” he said, though his shallow breathing suggested otherwise.

I led the way toward the narrow hallway at the back of the room.

The floorboards groaned under our weight as we hurried toward a low wooden door that led down into the dark.

I pulled it open, and the smell of damp earth and stagnant river water rushed up to meet us.

We descended the stairs in near-total darkness, my hand sliding along the rough, wet brick of the wall.

Behind us, a loud splintering sound echoed from the room above.

The front door had given way.