truth for rent.
The tunnel opened into a vertical shaft with a rusted ladder bolted into stone.
Water roared somewhere below.
The ladder climbed upward into darkness.
Lily tested the first rung.
Solid.
She climbed.
Her backpack pulled at her shoulders.
Her elbows bled.
Her wet boots slipped twice.
She kept climbing.
Halfway up, her phone buzzed.
She nearly lost her grip.
One bar of service.
A text came through.
UNKNOWN NUMBER:
LILY HART, DO NOT TRUST ANYONE IN CALDER RIDGE. YOUR MOTHER SENT ME. KEEP CLIMBING.
Lily stared at
