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Chapter 23 - The Dark CellarThe air in the basement was damp and smelled of mold. Mark flicked the light switch, revealing a small storage closet under the stairs. The door was locked from the outside with a heavy brass bolt.

With a surge of furious strength, Mark kicked the lock. The wooden frame splintered, and the door swung open.

Inside, sitting on a bare concrete floor with only a thin, filthy blanket, was six-year-old Owen. The little boy shielded his eyes from the sudden light, pulling his knees to his chest. When he recognized Mark, his lip trembled, but he didn't cry out—he had been trained to be silent.

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"Daddy...?" Owen whispered, his voice dry and raspy. "Is Aunt Kate gone? Can I come out now?"

Mark fell to his knees again, holding both of his children in his arms. The rage inside him burned hotter than any fire, but for his children, his touch was as gentle as a feather.

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