Veil of Secrets - Chap 27

Three trucks rumbled into the clearing, their heavy-duty tires grinding through the muck, engines growling under the weight of their cargo.

Sal climbed out of the lead truck, his boots sinking into the wet ground, water sloshing over the edges. He swore under his breath. The tunnel entrance was blocked.

Two massive trees, their roots upturned and twisted, had collapsed across the path—branches tangled like dead fingers, creating an obstacle no truck was getting past.

Tony "The Hawk" hopped down beside him, lighting a cigar, the cherry-red glow flickering against the mist. He took a long drag, surveying the chaos before letting out an unimpressed sigh.

"Vito didn't say nothing about no damn trees," Tony muttered, exhaling a plume of smoke. "This wasn't part of the plan."

Sal kicked at the mud, his patience wearing thin.

"This is a mistake," he said, shaking his head. "You know those tunnels haven't been touched in years."

Tony shot him a look. "Vito says we move through them, we move through them."

Sal let out a humorless laugh. "Yeah? And when the whole thing collapses on top of us? What then?"

Tony shrugged, unfazed. "Then we dig our way out."

Sal's jaw clenched. "We've been using the Vineyard tunnel. We could wait another day, let the roads dry out—"

"We don't have another day," Tony snapped. "We miss the deadline, and we don't just lose the business. We lose our heads."

Sal exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his wet hair. "This ain't just business anymore. It's a damned graveyard waiting to happen."

Tony rolled his shoulders, unconcerned. "Then you better start praying, huh?"

One of the younger men, standing near the second truck, stepped forward. "What if Sal's right?" he asked hesitantly. "We could wait—find another way."

Tony's gaze locked on him. "You wanna be the guy to call Vito and tell him we're stalling?"

The man paled. Nobody wanted to make that call.

Tony smirked, tossing his cigar to the ground and grinding it out with his boot. "Then shut up and clear the damn trees."

Sal pulled out his phone, his stomach twisting.

The longer they stood there, the worse this felt.

And then—it rang.

Vito.

Sal hesitated.

Tony grinned, watching him. "Go on, tell the boss we're thinking about stalling."

Sal swore under his breath and answered, "Yeah, Boss."

"Tell me you're at the tunnel." Vito's voice was sharp, impatient.

Sal licked his lips, glancing toward the tangled mess of trees ahead. "We're here. But —"

"Then why the hell aren't you moving?"

Sal hesitated. "Trees are down. Roads are—"

"I don't want to hear about the roads. I want to hear that you're in the damn tunnels."

Sal closed his eyes briefly, bracing himself. "Look, boss, these tunnels—"

"I don't care."

Vito's voice grew colder.

"You move 'em out. You know what happens if we miss this window."

Sal's grip on the phone tightened. "Yeah. I know."

"Then quit wasting my time." The line went dead.

Sal exhaled sharply, staring at the phone like it had burned him.

Tony smirked, clapping him on the shoulder. "Guess we're moving, huh?"

Sal nodded and yelled to the others. "Those trees aren't going to move by themselves."

 A handful of men moved forward, grabbing chainsaws and axes from the truck beds. The chainsaws roared as the men quickly hacked away enough of the fallen trees to push forward.

Tony took a deep breath, kissed his St. Christopher medal, and called to the guys, "Times a-wasting. Let's get 'em unloaded."

The men hoisted their weapons and started shoving the women from the trucks, their shackles clanking as they stumbled onto the muddy ground. A few women glanced at each other, sensing the tension.

Sal glanced toward the dark mouth of the tunnel, feeling a cold weight settle in his gut.

This was a mistake. But mistakes didn't matter when Vito had made up his mind. He turned to the men. "Move 'em in."

And one by one, they disappeared into the darkness.

Sal walked toward the front of the line, his grip tight around his flashlight, his eyes darting toward the uneven ceiling above them.

He hated this. Every part of him was screaming that this was wrong. And judging by the quiet murmurs among the other men, he wasn't the only one.

One of the younger guys, Nico, was whispering to another trafficker. "You feel that?" he muttered. "Like the ground's moving?"

Sal didn't want to hear that — because he felt it, too. Not a significant shift, not something obvious. Just a low, deep tremor beneath their feet. Like the earth itself was waiting. Watching.

"Keep moving," Tony snapped from ahead.

Nico didn't argue, but his grip on his gun tightened.

The further they went, the colder it got.

One of the women, a sharp-eyed brunette with shackles digging into her wrists, stiffened. She felt it in her bones before she heard it.

The pressure. The feeling of being buried alive.

Her lips parted slightly, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's waking up."

The woman beside her, younger, trembling, stared at her in confusion. "What is?"

But the woman didn't answer. She just kept walking because what else could she do?

The men were tense but not listening. And when the earth takes what it wants, it doesn't warn twice.

Sal had just stepped over a puddle when it happened.

A sharp, splintering crack—quiet but distinct—ran up the tunnel wall.

His breath caught.

A tiny piece of rock slipped free, bounced against the floor, and landed with a soft splash in the water.

Nobody moved. Nobody spoke.

Then—another piece of rock tumbled loose.

Another. Then—a deep, slow groan from above.

Sal's blood ran cold.

Nico froze mid-step. "Boss—"

"MOVE!" Tony yelled.

But it was too late. The tunnel screamed. The ground lurched violently, throwing people off balance. The ceiling buckled. And then—

Everything came crashing down. The collapse was deafening—a thunderous roar of earth and stone, a monstrous sound that drowned out the screams.

Sal was thrown backward, his body slamming into the tunnel wall as the air filled with choking dust.

Someone shouted orders—but the chaos drowned out the words. An enormous slab of rock crashed down, taking one of the traffickers with it.

The women screamed, some falling, others scrambling toward any opening.

Nico, coughing violently, reached for his gun as if it could somehow help him.

Another tunnel support gave way, sending a cascade of rocks and wooden beams tumbling down. Then, suddenly— everything was silent.

Suffocating dust hung thick in the air. The tunnel entrance was gone. Completely sealed shut.

The remaining flashlights flickered, bouncing off the newly collapsed walls, revealing the horrifying truth they were trapped.

Sal forced himself to sit up, his head pounding, his breath ragged.

Nico stumbled forward, hands bracing against a rock.

"The entrance—" Nico turned toward him, eyes wild, desperate. "It's gone. Boss, we're—"

Sal already knew. No way back. No way out.

The only option was forward.

Some of the women huddled together, their faces streaked with dirt, eyes wide with terror. One woman stood up slowly, her arms still bound, her gaze sharp.

She wasn't just afraid. She was watching them.

And Sal realized something then. The women weren't just prisoners anymore. They were survivors.

And desperate survivors fight back.

Outside, Cornelius leaned against one of the fallen trees, smoking his cigar. As the smoke spiraled upward, he watched in twisted amusement.

The screams, the gasping breaths, the last remnants of control slipping from the men's hands.

He let out a low, dark chuckle. They thought they could own this land. They thought they could use his tunnels and steal what was his. No! The vineyard was his. The land was his. And now? Now, so were they.

The storm had hidden his sins once before, and now it would do it again. His laughter echoed across the estate as he yelled, "No one takes from Cornelius Webb."

*****

Eleanor woke with a gasp, her entire body trembling.

Her breath came hard, uneven, her chest tightening.

She felt cold—like the weight of something heavy had fallen over her.

Something had happened. Something terrible.

Her shimmering image left her bedroom and appeared in the downstairs study. She turned sharply, her eyes immediately finding Antonio standing near the window.

He was already watching her. "You felt it," he murmured.

Eleanor swallowed hard, nodding. "What was it?"

Antonio's voice was calm, steady. "The tunnels."

Eleanor exhaled shakily. She closed her eyes, exhaling deeply. "Not Rebecca?"

"No, but someone — I sense many — is trapped beneath the earth."

Eleanor gasped, her eyes locking with Antonio's. "Here on the vineyard."

Antonio turned to the window, looking out over the remains of the vineyard. "I can't see them, Eleanor, but I know if they aren't found in time—" His words trailed off.

Travis shifted, his body aching as he stretched. He was tucked beneath the exposed roots of a massive tree, its tangled limbs forming a natural alcove that had shielded him from the worst of the rain.

The wind had died down, but the forest was still unnervingly quiet. There were no birds, no rustling leaves, just silence.

His stomach clenched as thoughts of yesterday washed over him. Rebecca was still out there, sick. He needed to find help.

Using the tree for balance, he pulled himself up, his legs shaky from being curled up for so long. He took a few unsteady steps forward, then stopped.

Something was watching him. He felt it before he saw it. It was close, unmoving, but alive.

And then—

A low, deep growl rumbled through the trees.

Travis’s heart lurched into his throat. His body went rigid, every instinct screaming at him to run.

Then, through the mist and shadows of the early morning light, it emerged—a massive, dark-furred beast with golden eyes locked onto him.

Half-wolf, half-dog.

The animal was larger than any stray Travis had ever seen, its fur matted from the storm, its powerful shoulders rippling with every careful step.

Travis swallowed hard. This was no ordinary dog. It was wild — unpredictable. And it was staring right at him.

The wolfdog didn’t charge. It didn’t snarl, didn’t lunge. It just watched and waited.

Travis’s pulse hammered. His brain screamed to run — to bolt into the trees, to climb, to do something, but his legs wouldn’t move.

And then, something strange happened.

The wolfdog tilted its head slightly, its ears flicking back as if considering him—not as prey, not as a threat, just observing.

Travis forced himself to breathe. He knew enough about animals to understand one thing — if he ran, it would chase him.

His pulse pounded, but he held still. Slowly, he lowered his hands, showing he had nothing. No weapons. No food.

The wolfdog’s nose twitched. Then, cautiously, it took another step forward.

Travis’s fingers curled into fists, but he didn’t move.

The animal was testing him. Not as an enemy. As something else.

Travis swallowed, his throat dry. “I—I’m not gonna hurt you.” His voice was barely above a whisper, rough from the cold.

The wolfdog’s ears flicked slightly, but it didn’t back away. It just stood there.

Travis risked a slow, cautious movement, lowering himself slightly, not cowering but showing he wasn’t a threat.

The wolfdog huffed, nostrils flaring. Then, to Travis’s complete shock — it sat, a surprising turn of events that left Travis stunned.

Travis blinked. “What?”

The wolfdog tilted its head again.

Travis had no idea what was happening, but somehow, he wasn’t afraid anymore.

They stayed like that for what felt like forever — boy and beast, staring at each other through the morning mist.

Then, finally — the wolfdog stood and turned. It took a few slow steps, then stopped. Looking back. Waiting.

Travis hesitated. His heart was pounding as he took a step forward.

The wolfdog didn’t run. He didn’t growl. It just walked.

Travis swallowed hard and followed, feeling this wolfdog was leading him somewhere. And right now — it was the closest thing to a guide he had.

The ground wasn’t easy to walk on — soft mud sucked at Travis’s boots, making every step heavier, harder.

The wolfdog, on the other hand, moved effortlessly.

Travis exhaled sharply, his legs burning from exhaustion.

Then he heard a sound — a low, eerie creaking. Travis froze.

The wolfdog stopped, too, its ears perking, nose twitching toward the air.

Then, the groaning sound came again. Travis tilted his head, searching, and his stomach dropped. A massive tree, split at the base, was tilting dangerously above him. He barely had time to move before—

CRACK.

The tree gave way completely, its massive trunk crashing toward him. Travis turned to run, but he was too slow.

Pain shot through Travis’s leg as the tree landed across it, pinning him against the ground.

He let out a strangled yell, twisting, trying to pull himself free, but the weight was too much.

Panic set in fast. He was stuck. No one knew where he was. And Rebecca and Amelia were still out there, waiting.

He clenched his teeth, digging his fingers into the mud, trying again, but the pain was sharp and unforgiving.

He was trapped. As he lay there in fear and pain, he heard a low whine. The wolfdog had stopped a few feet away, its golden eyes locked onto him, ears twitching forward. It padded closer, sniffing the air around him, then the tree.

Travis exhaled sharply. “Hey — I could use some help.”

The wolfdog tilted its head.

Travis’s fingers clenched. His voice was desperate now. “Get help.” He had no idea if the animal understood, but he hoped so because he had no other avenue of escape.

The wolfdog sniffed his leg, then the air before he turned and ran.

Travis’s stomach twisted. Was it leaving him? Had it been following him out of curiosity, only to abandon him when he needed it most?

He closed his eyes, his breath shaky. His mind shifted to Rebecca. She had counted on him, and he’d failed.

*****

Time passed in aching slowness.

Travis’s leg throbbed, his body cold and exhausted. He was drifting—his thoughts fading, his muscles too weak to try again. He felt a surge of despair. He had failed Rebecca, and now he was going to die alone in the forest.

Then he heard something — footsteps.

Not just paws. Boots. A voice.

“What in God’s name—”

Travis forced his eyes open.

A woman stood above him, her dark cloak trailing along the wet ground, her piercing eyes scanning him, unsure of the situation. Her face was weathered, with lines etched by years of living in the wild, and her hands were calloused from hard work.

The wolfdog stood beside her, panting, watching.

She knelt, her fingers pressing lightly against his pulse, against his trapped leg.

“You’re lucky,” she murmured.

Travis blinked. His voice was hoarse. “You—you know him?” He gestured toward the wolfdog.

The woman’s lips curved slightly. “I raised him.”

Travis’s breath shuddered out.

“My friend — she’s sick. Needs—needs help.”

The woman’s expression shifted slightly. Something unreadable crossed her face, and then she nodded.

“Let’s get you out first.”

She turned toward the wolfdog, nodding once,

and for the first time, Travis felt hope again.