“Go, Claire,” he whispered.

“I will hold them off.”

He turned toward the approaching headlights.

He raised the empty rifle.

He was going to die for us.

Or he was playing his part.

I could not tell anymore.

But I had to save my boys.

I followed Ruth into the cellar opening.

The stone steps were wet and slick.

The heavy wooden door shut above us.

Plunging us back into the dark.

The sound of gunfire echoed from the road above.

And then, the sound of a car speeding away.

We were underground.

Safe for now.

But the dark was filled with secrets.

And the air smelled of old paper.

And copper.

“Ruth?” I whispered.

A match flared.

The small light illuminated the cellar.

It was filled with filing cabinets.

Thousands of papers.

“Welcome to the archive, Claire,” Ruth said.

“The one Daniel did not want you to see.”

She pointed to the shelf.

A box sat there, labeled with my name.

And next to it, a box labeled with Daniel’s.

And a third box.

Labeled with the name of the third child.