Inside, the house felt smaller, suffocating under the weight of fear. Claire cornered him in the kitchen, voice sharp. “This isn’t safe, Daniel. What if more come out of there? What if—” She cut herself short, glancing at the boys in the next room. Her silence said enough.
That evening, police officials confirmed what Daniel had already suspected. The tunnel’s trajectory aligned perfectly with the state penitentiary miles away. Escapees had been carving toward freedom for months, maybe years, unseen beneath the earth. The collapse hadn’t been random—it was the byproduct of their desperate digging.