The Bloodline of Boston and the Secrets Hidden Beneath Sullivan Diner
I took a deep breath, smelling the damp earth and the faint scent of fuel.
I slid my foot forward, feeling for the next step.
The stairs ended, leveling out into a narrow mud-packed corridor.
I walked slowly, my shoulder brushing against the rough dirt walls.
Luca had stopped crying, but he was breathing fast, his warm breath puffing against my neck.
I held them both as close as I could, trying to shield them from the damp chill of the tunnel.
Ahead of me, a faint yellow glow appeared on the wet floor.
I stopped, my heart freezing.
I pressed my back against the muddy wall, holding my breath.
The light was moving, swinging back and forth across the damp brickwork.
It was a flashlight.
Someone was already down here, or they had found another entrance.
“Clara?” a voice called out.
It wasn’t Dominic, and it wasn’t Silvio.
The voice was thin, reedy, and entirely unfamiliar.
I shrank back into the shadows, looking for anywhere to hide.
The tunnel was straight, with no side alcoves or doors.