A steep flight of concrete stairs disappeared into the dark.

I checked my weapon, making sure a round was chambered, and gripped the flashlight tight.

“Here we go,” I whispered.

I stepped onto the first stair.

The wood of the floorboards slid shut above me with a heavy, final thud.

I was locked in.

I didn’t panic.

I knew there was an emergency release from the inside.

I walked down the concrete steps, the sound of my boots echoing off the narrow walls.

The air grew colder with every step I took.

At the bottom of the stairs, I reached a heavy steel door.

It looked like the door to a bank vault, complete with a manual wheel and a digital keypad.

The keypad was dead, its screen dark.

But there was a manual override keyhole hidden beneath a sliding metal plate.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the old silver key my father had given me on my eighteenth birthday.

He had told me it was for a safety deposit box.

He had lied about that, too.