Chapter 33: Trapped

I found her huddled behind a makeshift altar, her face pale, a dark stain spreading on her torn shirt. She looked up, relief warring with exhaustion in her eyes. "Jack," she rasped, "You came back."

"Wouldn't miss this party for anything," I replied, my voice rough. "Now, let's get you out of here before they decide to fumigate the place."

I decided to set a trap. We couldn't run because we were outnumbered, but we could take out Graves's crew piece by piece.

"This church has more secrets than Calico's mines," she wheezed, gesturing to the crumbling stone walls. "My father used it as a secondary meeting point, a place for contingencies. There are tunnels beneath this place."

"Tunnels?" I asked, my mind racing. "Where?"

"Follow me," she said, pushing herself up with a groan, her hand pressing against her side. "We'll use them to set a trap."

The side altar shifted, revealing a narrow, stone-lined passage that descended into the earth. The air, cooler than the desert's breath, smelled of damp rock and decay, a forgotten crypt within the ruins of a church. Maddie swayed, her hand pressed against her side where the dark stain on her shirt had grown, but her eyes held a fierce light.

"This way," she rasped, her voice thin.

I swept my gaze over the church's shattered windows. The first hint of dawn painted the sky a bruised purple, but Graves' men hadn't moved. Their shadows still clung to the perimeter, patient predators. They knew we were in here. They just didn't know where.

"How many?" I asked, guiding her into the suffocating dark. The tunnel swallowed us, the church above fading into a distant rumble of their movements.

"Graves has at least five with him. More could be on the way. They'll sweep the church, then the surrounding area. They won't leave until they find us, or our bodies." Her words echoed in the enclosed space. "They'll be thorough, methodical. Miguel demands it."

"Miguel? The Beast?" My voice dropped to a whisper, the name tasting like ash.

"The same. He's pushing Graves hard. The disappearances have drawn too much attention. He needs us gone, quietly." Maddie paused, a hand on the rough-hewn wall. "This tunnel connects to a series of old smuggler's routes. My father repurposed them. They run under the town, a network of forgotten arteries."

"And you know them?" I asked.

"Every twist. Every dead end." She moved with surprising speed, her injured leg a forgotten burden, propelled by a primal need for survival. "My father taught me. A game, he called it. Learning how to be a ghost."

The passage widened, then narrowed again, winding like a serpent through the earth. We heard the distant scrape of boots on stone above us, the low murmur of voices. They were inside the church.

"What's the play?" I asked. "We can't fight six men in a confined space, injured."

She stopped, turning to face me. The tunnel's oppressive blackness made her eyes gleam. "We don't. We choose our ground. We use their arrogance against them." She gestured deeper into the tunnel. "There's a junction ahead. Three paths. One leads out, near the saloon. Another, to an old well. The third… it circles back under the church."

"And which one do we want them to take?"

"The one that circles back." Her lips curved into a predatory smile. "They'll expect us to flee. To run. We lead them on a chase, then double back. We turn the hunter into the hunted."

"Risky," I said.

"Everything is now. They'll split up, eventually. Graves will send men down each path. That's when we pick them off, one by one. The well shaft. It's narrow, impossible to climb out of without a rope. Perfect for a quick burial."

A muffled explosion rocked the tunnel above us, sending dust raining down. They were using explosives, trying to breach the floor of the church, searching for a hidden crypt.

"They're getting impatient," she observed, her voice chillingly calm. "Good. Impatience breeds mistakes."

"So, we bait them," I mused, the plan taking shape. "Lure the first few into the well shaft."