Ethan spun instinctively, light jerking wildly across the walls as the sound thundered overhead, pacing directly above their heads before stopping abruptly. Silence slammed down after it, heavier than before. “What the hell was that?” Ethan whispered. Nora’s breathing came in sharp bursts. She clutched his arm, fingers digging in. “Someone was running,” she said.
“Right above us.” They both looked up. That was when Ethan saw it—a square outline in the ceiling, barely visible until the light hit it at the right angle. The edges were too clean, too deliberate to be natural. A wooden hatch sat flush with the stone, darkened with age. “A trap door,” he said. Nora shook her head immediately. “No. No, we are not doing that.”