Behind me, Seth and Jude move in silence. Raphael leads, but I stay close behind him in case he decides to run toward the first sound of screaming like a rabid wolf. Back at the fire watch tower…I’ve never seen him socold. But I know, more than anyone, how it was a symptom of fear. Of what we all fear—if we were to lose her.
The further we go, we discover gold veins running through the walls, glinting like glowing teeth, mocking us.
Jude kneels beside one beam, brushing dust off a weathered support post. “You know this used to be part of an old gold rush mine, right? That’s probably how Alden’s operation got linked to those bars.”
Makes sense. Greed built this place. Obsession and religious oppression kept it standing. And now, it’s trying to swallow us whole.
“This place wasn’t built to last,” Jude mutters. “These beams are older than any of us.”
“Not me,” I grunt. “I’m practically prehistoric.”
Seth huffs a dry laugh. “You don’t look it.”
“Careful, Seth,” I reprimand him. “Rory might get jealous.”
Seth blinks in the dim light. “You know he’s got a twelve-inch dong, right?”
I snort, rolling my eyes. It’s these little moments of humor that keep me sane. But the shadow that crosses Seth’s face, the way he lowers his chin, his body tight, I know he’s thinking of his partner.
“Don’t worry, Seth,” I assure him. “Rory’s tough as nails and crazy as fuck. He’ll be fine. And if they brought him to Briella…she will know we’re coming.”
He nods firmly.
The moments are short-lived. A rumble shudders through the tunnel, like something huge just fell miles away. Wood cracks. The floor shifts beneath us.
Then—crash.
The ceiling ahead gives way with a deafening roar, raining down dirt, debris, and splintered beams.
“Move!” Raphael barks, and we all scatter back, coughing through the wave of dust. The collapse chokes the path forward in a mound of rubble.
“Rory’s grenades,” Raphael mentions. “Must have been a delayed chain reaction. Brought the whole damn skeleton of this place shaking.”
I approach the pile, heart pounding. It’s not a total cave-in. Just enough to slow us down. “This isn’t all fresh. I’d wagerpart of it collapsed before. The grenades just finished the job. Shockwave hit the tunnels.”
“Can we still get through?” Jude asks, scanning the ceiling nervously.
“We don’t have a choice.”
I drop to one knee and start shifting chunks of rock. Sweat slips down my spine in sheets. These aren’t clean-cut weights—they’re jagged, heavy, and slick with age. But I’ve trained for worse. Bled for worse. I’ve broken bones just to get a shot in.
This? This is just busy work.
The others don’t waste time. Seth pulls one of the beams back while Raphael digs at the other side. Jude finds a support rod and starts wedging pieces loose.
“I’m going to have nightmares about this place,” Jude mutters.
“You sleep?” I ask, trying to stoke the humor. “I figured you just lay there thinking about all the ways we could die.”
“And how to save your sorry asses,” Jude adds.
Seth groans. “Can we not give the tunnel ideas?”
It takes twenty minutes and all of us, but finally we make a narrow pass-through, tight enough to crouch-walk, not crawl. Raphael slides through first without a word, just a blur against the lamplight. I follow, with Seth and Jude behind.
The air shifts after we clear it. Less damp. Less death.
“This way.” Raphael turns to one tunnel. “He’s been using it.”
