The Subterranean Vault

Mark did not speak; the scream that tore from his lungs was raw, animalistic, and shattered the tranquility of the gated Connecticut neighborhood.

He grabbed the metal ventilation grate with his bare fingers, hauling upward with sheer adrenaline.

The rusted screws tore free from the subfloor with a sickening crack.

Mark thrust his arm into the dark opening, feeling small, freezing fingers latch onto his wrist.

"Lily!"

Mark choked out.