Chapter 92 The underground

Chapter 92 The underground
Chapter 92: The underground 

Audrey waited until the farm settled into its late-afternoon rhythm before she made her move. The workers were spread out across the land, engines humming in the distance, voices low, routine predictable. Nothing about the surface suggested what lay beneath it. That was the point.

Willa pushed the wheelchair slowly, carefully, following Audrey’s silent directions. They moved past the barn, past the shed Thomas often hovered around, then farther out where the land dipped slightly and the grass grew uneven, like it had been disturbed once and then forced to forget.

“Here,” Audrey said quietly.

Willa stopped. “You sure?”

Audrey tilted her head, scanning the area. “I’m very sure.”

Willa crouched and brushed her hand through the grass, feeling. Her fingers hit something solid. She looked up. “Damn.”

Audrey’s lips curved faintly. “Help me closer.”

Willa adjusted the chair, positioning Audrey directly above the spot. She pressed down with her foot and felt a slight give, not enough to open, but enough to confirm it wasn’t earth.

“So this is it,” Willa muttered.

“Yes,” Audrey said. “This is where they thought no one would ever look.”

Willa cleared the grass fully, revealing a steel panel flush with the ground. No rust. No damage. Just a narrow seam and, off to the side, a small keypad embedded cleanly into the metal.

Willa’s eyes widened. “That’s not cheap work.”

“No,” Audrey replied. “That’s paranoia with money.”

Willa wiped her hands on her jeans. “You think Thomas found this?”

“He found it,” Audrey said. “But he didn’t open it.”

“How do you know?”

Audrey looked at the keypad. “Because if he had, this place would already be empty.”

Willa nodded slowly. “Okay. How many tries?”

Audrey leaned forward as much as she could. The screen was dark until Willa brushed a finger across it. It lit up softly.

Willa frowned. “It says three attempts remaining.”

Audrey exhaled once. “Of course it does.”

Willa looked at her. “Someone already tried.”

“Yes,” Audrey said. “And that someone is Monkey…”

Willa flexed her fingers. “Want me to handle it?”

Audrey shook her head. “No. We will do this together.”

Willa hesitated. “Audrey, one wrong move and this thing locks forever.”

“I know.”

“And if it locks…”

“It locks,” Audrey cut in calmly. “Then we move on.”

Willa studied her face. “You’re really not scared.”

Audrey met her eyes. “I’m tired of being.”

Willa straightened and faced the keypad. “Alright. First attempt. What do you think they used?”

Audrey didn’t answer immediately. Her eyes moved across the land, unfocused, thinking. “Try something simple first.”

“Like what?”

“Four digits,” Audrey said. “Men like him think simple is clever.”

Willa nodded. “Birthday?”

“Try his,” Audrey said. “The public one.”

Willa entered the numbers. The keypad beeped once, sharp and final.

ACCESS DENIED.

Willa winced. “Okay. That’s one.”

Audrey’s jaw tightened slightly. “Second try.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

Willa paused. “If this doesn’t work, we’re down to one.”

Audrey looked at her. “Then we’ll be careful.”

Willa exhaled and typed again. Different numbers this time. A guess based on patterns, habits, the kind of thing men reused when they thought no one was watching.

The keypad processed for a second longer than before. Then it beeped again.

ACCESS DENIED.

Willa swore under her breath. “That’s two.”

The keypad screen dimmed slightly, as if warning them.

ONE ATTEMPT REMAINING.

Willa turned to Audrey. “This is it.”

Audrey closed her eyes.

The world narrowed. The farm noises faded into background hum. She wasn’t here anymore. She was somewhere else, years back, watching a man who thought he was unreadable repeat the same habits over and over again.

Izo hated randomness. 

She pictured him sitting at his desk, fingers steepled, choosing a code not for security but for symbolism.

Willa waited, silent for once.

Audrey spoke without opening her eyes. “He wouldn’t use dates anymore.”

“No?”

“No. He thinks they make him predictable.”

“Names?”

“He thinks names are sentimental.”

Willa swallowed. “Then what?”

Audrey opened her eyes slowly. They were clear.

“He would use something that reminded him who he is,” she said. “Something he believes no one else understands.”

Willa frowned. “Like what?”

Audrey didn’t answer right away. She leaned forward, her hands gripping the arms of the wheelchair. “Help me closer.”

Willa moved the chair an inch forward.

Audrey looked directly at the keypad now. “This place is on his farm…but what if it doesn’t belong to him…his ex wife owned this farm…let’s think something she might have used if this was truly hers…” 

Willa’s breath caught. “You think…?”

“Yes.”

Willa hesitated. “Audrey, if this is wrong…”

“It won’t be,” Audrey said.

She recited the numbers slowly.

Willa typed them in exactly as Audrey said, her fingers steady despite the tension crawling up her spine.

The keypad went dark. For a second, nothing happened.

Willa’s heart pounded. “Audrey…”

There was a soft click beneath the ground. Not loud. Not dramatic. Controlled. The steel panel shifted.

Willa froze. “Oh my God.”

The seam widened just enough to reveal darkness beneath. Cold air rushed up, brushing against Audrey’s legs, against Willa’s ankles. The ground trembled gently.

Audrey didn’t move. “Stay calm.”

The panel began to slide open fully, revealing a platform beneath it. Not a ladder. Not stairs.

A lift.

Willa stared. “This thing was built to move people.”

“Yes,” Audrey said. “And things.”

The platform locked into place with a muted thud, level with the ground. The edges were seamless, designed so the earth swallowed it when closed.

Willa looked from the lift to Audrey. “Wheelchair.”

“I know.”

Willa stepped forward, testing the platform with her foot. Solid. “It can take the weight.”

“It was designed to,” Audrey replied.

Willa moved behind the wheelchair. “You ready?”

Audrey’s hand slid unconsciously to her thigh, where the weight of the pistol rested. “I’ve been ready.”

Willa rolled the wheelchair forward slowly, guiding it onto the platform. The wheels clicked softly as they crossed the threshold.

The platform sensed the full weight and responded immediately. There was a low mechanical hum.

Willa’s eyes widened. “It’s moving.”

Audrey looked up at her. “Get on.”

Willa hesitated only a second before stepping onto the platform beside Audrey. The ground above them began to close.

Daylight narrowed to a thin line.

Willa’s voice dropped. “Once this closes…”

“It won’t open from the outside,” Audrey finished.

The light vanished completely. The platform began to descend, smooth and steady, swallowing Audrey and Willa into the underground.