At the mention of our daughter’s name, Nora looked up.

Her eyes were wide with fear, but she nodded slowly.

“Go, Daniel,” Nora said, her voice barely a whisper. “Do what he says.”

Daniel hesitated for a second, then nodded.

He helped Nora to her feet, supporting most of her weight.

They began to move slowly down the dark corridor toward the garden exit.

I turned back to Caleb, who was still pinned to the floor.

“You’re coming with me,” I said, grabbing him by the arm.

“I can’t walk,” he groaned. “My knee is blown.”

“You’ll crawl then,” I said, dragging him toward the wine vault.

The air in the vault was cold and smelled of damp earth and rotting wood.

Rows of empty wooden racks lined the walls, covered in cobwebs.

In the center of the room, a thick cedar beam held up the ceiling.

At the base of the beam sat a black plastic case.

A bundle of wires ran from the case into the wood.

A small red light on the front of the case pulsed in sync with the keycard.