Below us, the wooden stairs creaked under our weight as we began our descent.

Above us, the heavy thud of tactical boots echoed through the study we had just abandoned.

They were already inside the room.

“Spread out,” a voice shouted from the other side of the wall. “Find them.”

I held my breath, guiding Victor down the steep steps one slow, painful inch at a time.

The city’s underbelly was waiting for us, but first, we had to get out of the house alive.

I reached the bottom of the stairs and felt the cold iron of the cellar door.

Behind us, the latch on the bookshelf rattled.

I threw my weight against the heavy iron cellar door.

The rusted bolt gave way with a loud, metallic snap that echoed in the confined space.

I pulled Victor through the opening just as a heavy thud vibrated through the wood behind us.

“They’re coming down,” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the roaring in my ears.

We scrambled into the pitch-black coal cellar.

The air was thick with the smell of old soot, damp earth, and decaying timber.