“Only until the storm clears or help arrives,” he said.

He stepped onto the first crate, checking its stability under his weight.

Grace reached up and grabbed the hem of my pants, her small fingers trembling.

“Is Daddy leaving?” she whimpered.

I knelt down, keeping the four girls huddled together in the corner.

“He’s fixing the lights, Gracie,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

The air was already turning cold, the Aspen blizzard raging just outside the concrete walls.

I could feel the chill seeping through the floorboards.

Nathan reached the ventilation grate and began working on the screws with his heavy steel wrench.

The screech of the metal grinder outside grew louder, vibrating through the floor and into my bones.

A larger shower of sparks rained down, landing on the rubber mat near the door and filling the air with smoke.

The smell of burning ozone and molten steel filled the tight space, making Emma cough.

“Emma, look at me,” I said, holding her small, wet face in my hands.

Her eyes were wide and dark in the flashlight’s reflection.