If they blew the door, the concussion in this confined space would deafen us all.

I looked at Clara, who remained silent on the crate, her knees pulled to her chest.

I had spent years keeping her hidden, and now the entire foundation of my house was crumbling.

I refused to surrender the legacy I had built with my own hands to a traitor like Caleb.

I turned to Daniel.

“You stay here,” I commanded. “Guard the door, guard Nora, and guard the girls.”

Daniel nodded once, his grip firm on his pistol. “With my life, sir.”

“If they break through, use the narrow angle of the doorway,” I told him. “Do not let them get a clean line of sight.”

“What about you?” Nora asked, her eyes wide with panic.

“I am going to end this,” I said.

I walked to the back of the vault, behind the stack of dry rations.

Years ago, during the initial construction of the subterranean cellar, the workers had hit a fault line in the stone.

They had dug a secondary ventilation and utility tunnel that bypassed the main hallway.