For a moment, nobody breathed.

The only sound was the heavy, rhythmic thumping of the auxiliary generator somewhere deep below.

“Nathan?” I whispered into the dark, my hand searching the floor for the girls.

“I’m here,” his voice came from the left, sounding breathless but unharmed.

“Are the girls okay?”

“We’re here,” Emma’s small voice said from the corner.

“We’re holding hands.”

I felt a cold draft on my neck, and then a faint, green glow began to emanate from the wall safe.

The silver thumb drive on the desk was flashing, casting long, eerie shadows across the room.

But it wasn’t the only thing glowing.

Inside the open safe, a tiny, hidden screen on the back wall had lit up.

It showed a live camera feed of the hallway directly outside our door.

Vanessa was standing there, holding her bruised arm, her face contorted with anger.

Julian was beside her, holding a heavy yellow canister with a long black hose.

“They’re going to try the vents,” Nathan said, his voice flat.

“They aren’t trying to cut the door anymore.”