Then, the sound of a single gunshot echoed from beneath the stone tiles.

A light flickered beneath the cracks in the floorboards.

The small side door behind me began to rattle violently as the men outside threw their weight against it.

The wood began to splinter.

I had to make a choice.

I reached down, my fingers searching the cold stone floor for the iron ring of the grate.

My hand brushed against something wet.

It was warm, fresh blood, seeping up through the cracks in the stone.

The splintering wood of the side door cracked loudly in the silence.

The heavy iron bolt began to bend.

I pulled on the iron ring of the grate with all my strength.

It didn’t move.

A voice whispered from the darkness near the altar, but it was not the young woman’s.

It was Gianni’s voice, coming from a speaker hidden in the shadows.

“The game is over, Emily,” the speaker crackled.

The side door gave way with a loud crash, and the cold wind blew into the church.

Flashlight beams cut through the darkness, illuminating the falling dust.