Above us, the floorboards groaned under the weight of heavy, boots-on-wood footsteps.

“They’re directly above the kitchen pantry,” Daniel said, his shoulder pressed against the table.

“They know exactly where the stairs drop down,” I said.

A heavy blow struck the outside of the cellar door.

The iron pipe groaned, bending slightly in its brackets.

“Marcus, tell me you have something,” I said, turning toward the vault.

Marcus had his tactical knife out, scraping the insulation off a bundle of blue wires.

“The override system is old,” Marcus said, his forehead glistening with sweat.

“It’s the 2012 installation,” I said, stepping closer. “We used the Honeywell plates.”

“Yes,” Marcus said. “But they bypassed the primary relay.”

The red numbers on the display ticked down.

*00:38.*

*00:37.*

In the corner, Caleb let out a dry, rattling laugh.

“You can’t stop it, Adrian,” Caleb said.

His face was bruised, a thin trickle of blood drying on his chin.

“Shut up, Caleb,” Daniel said, not looking away from the door.

Another blow hit the door.

This time, the wood splintered near the top hinge.