"He's in debt," the man said calmly. "He used the house as collateral. We just need your signatures to finalize the transfer."
Michael tried to argue. One of them punched him hard in the stomach, knocking him out of breath.
They dragged us down to the basement and locked the door. I heard furniture moving above us—they were blocking the exits so we couldn't intervene.
I started to cry.
“Our own son…”
Michael was breathing heavily, but there was something strange in his eyes.
No fear.
Calculation.
He stood up and walked to the back wall, which was hidden behind old shelves stacked with boxes of Christmas decorations.
He leaned toward me and whispered, "They think we're trapped. But they don't know what's behind this wall."
I stared at him.
What are you talking about?
There was an argument upstairs. Then I heard it.
Daniel's tribe.
But not confident. Not aloof.
In a panic.
As if something was unravelling.
Michael crouched close to the ground and pressed himself against a certain brick.
A hollow sound answered.
My heart was pounding against my ribs.
Before I could ask another question, footsteps sounded on the basement stairs.
The door vibrated violently. The key turned.
Michael pushed hard against the shelves.
With a sharp bang, a section of the wall shifted.
A hidden panel swung inward.
A dark opening appeared.
“A tunnel?” I asked, sighing.
“Go,” he whispered urgently.
The cellar door flew open just as I crawled into the narrow passageway. Michael slipped in after me and pulled the wall back into place. A flashlight beam shone through the cellar.
“Where have they gone?!” one of the men shouted.
We trudged through the damp earth, hunched and trembling. The tunnel opened into a small, fortified chamber.
There was a lantern. Bottles of water. A first aid kit. An emergency radio. A safe bolted into the concrete.
A shelter.
“Michael…when did you do this?”
"After that burglary at our house ten years ago," he said softly. "I couldn't stop talking about it. I needed to know I could protect you."
Above us, footsteps rumbled. Furniture toppled over.
Then Daniel's voice sounded again, louder this time.
“They can't possibly have just disappeared!”
I felt sick.
“Did he really plan this?”
Michael hesitated. "I don't think he meant for it to get this out of hand."
Before I could react, a deafening scream echoed above my head.
"Police! Get down!"
Chaos broke out. Screams. A struggle. What sounded like a gunshot.
I clung to Michael.
A few minutes later there was silence.
Then a broken voice sounded: "Mom? Dad?"
Daniel.
We waited a moment before coming out. Michael pushed open the wall. Officers stood in the basement with their weapons drawn. When they saw us, they lowered their weapons in relief.
Daniel ran towards me, pale and trembling.
"Mom!"
I instinctively recoiled.
Don't touch me. How dare you?
Tears streamed down his face.
“I didn't want this.”
A police officer spoke kindly. "Your son has contacted us. He's cooperating with an investigation against this group."
I stared at Daniel.
"I was in debt," he admitted, his voice trembling. "Very serious debts. They threatened me. They said if I didn't help them get into the house, they'd do something to me." He swallowed. "I agreed… but then I went to the police. I thought they'd get there before anything happened."
"They got here early," he whispered. "I was trying to keep them occupied upstairs."
Michael watched him intently.
Was that why you fought?
Daniel nodded.
“They shouldn't have hurt you.”
My anger warred against something deeper.
If it weren't for his call to the police, we might not be here at all.
The men were led away in handcuffs. The house was a mess, but it was still ours.
Later we sat among overturned chairs and scattered papers.
"I'm sorry," Daniel said, staring at the ground. "I almost broke everything."
Michael was the first to speak.
“You were almost there.”
Daniel's shoulders slumped.
