Storm
“Some doors are built to keep danger out. Others are built to keep the truth buried.”
— James Sinclair
“The gate beneath Blackwater.”
Mom’s words barely left her mouth before another violent tremor rolled beneath us.
The concrete floor shifted.
Ancient pipes groaned inside the walls.
Then came a sound I knew too well.
Water.
Not the gentle movement of the sea beneath a hull.
Not waves breaking against the shore.
This was a roar.
A massive force rushing through a space that had been sealed for decades.
Ward turned toward the corridor.
“We need to move.”
Nathan pulled Mom to her feet.
She stumbled.
He caught her before her knees struck the floor.
“I’ve got you.”
Mom’s hands closed around his shirt.
“I can walk.”
“I know.”
But Nathan didn’t release her.
Ward moved toward the hidden passage.
Ben caught his arm.
“The floor is dropping.”
A crack split the concrete between them.
Black water surged through it.
“Everybody out!” Ward shouted.
The narrow storage room erupted into motion.
Ben took the lead.
Ward pushed me behind him while Nathan kept one arm around Mom’s waist.
We reached Room Fourteen as another tremor shook the cannery.
The chair toppled.
The painted window shattered inward.
A bullet struck the doorframe.
Ward dragged me against the wall.
“They’re still here!”
Ben returned fire through the broken window.
“Two on the upper walkway!”
Nathan pulled Mom behind the metal shelving unit.
She gripped his arm.
“They’re trying to keep us inside.”
“Why?” I shouted.
Mom looked toward the water spreading across the floor.
“Because opening the gate floods the lower tunnels.”
The roar beneath us grew louder.
Ward fired twice.
A man cried out.
Ben looked down the corridor.
“Our exit is already flooding.”
“How fast?” Ward asked.
“Fast enough that we’re not going back the way we came.”
My stomach dropped.
“The lava tunnel is our only way to the boat.”
“Not anymore,” Mom said.
Everyone looked at her.
She pressed one hand to her bruised cheek.
“There’s another exit.”
Nathan’s gaze sharpened.
“Where?”
“The hidden passage.”
“Is that the one the kidnappers used?” Ward asked.
Mom nodded.
“It leads beneath the cannery and comes out near Blackwater.”
Ward reloaded his weapon.
“Then that’s where we’re going.”
We returned to the storage room.
Water covered our ankles now.
The opening in the far wall was narrow and pitch-black. Rusted tracks ran along the floor, disappearing into the passage.
Nathan stared at them.
“Mining carts.”
“Grandpa said the cannery was built over old lava tubes,” I said.
“It was,” Mom answered. “But the tunnels beneath it were altered during the war. Your grandfather discovered them when he was young.”
“Why didn’t he tell us?”
“He wanted the secret to die with him.”
A burst of gunfire struck the wall behind us.
Ward pushed Mom and me into the passage.
“Family history later. Move.”
Ben led us through the darkness.
Ward stayed at the rear, firing whenever one of the men appeared behind us.
Nathan refused to leave Mom’s side.
The passage sloped downward.
That didn’t make sense.
If the lower tunnels were flooding, we should have been climbing.
“Mom, are you certain this leads out?”
“It did when I was here before.”
I nearly stopped.
“You’ve been here?”
“When I was nineteen.”
Nathan looked at her.
“With James?”
“And Daniel.”
My father’s name echoed through the tunnel.
Mom’s breathing became uneven.
“Your grandfather brought us here after Daniel proposed. He said anyone who joined the Sinclair family needed to understand what we were protecting.”
“What were you protecting?” Ward called from behind us.
Mom didn’t answer immediately.
“The truth.”
We reached a fork in the passage.
The tracks turned left.
A steep stone staircase rose to the right.
Ben swept his flashlight over both routes.
“Which way?”
Mom stared at the tracks.
“The left passage leads to Blackwater.”
“And the stairs?”
“To the cliffs above the cannery.”
Ward glanced behind us.
“Then we take the stairs.”
“No.” Mom caught his arm. “They have the key. If they reach the gate—”
“They already opened it.”
“Only the first gate.”
Silence fell.
Ward’s face hardened.
“There’s another one?”
“Yes.”
“What happens if they open it?”
Mom looked at me.
“I don’t know.”
“You said Grandpa showed you this place.”
“He showed me the first gate. He told me the second must never be opened.”
Nathan stepped closer.
“What exactly did James say?”
Mom closed her eyes, searching her memory.
“He said, ‘If anyone ever finds what lies beneath Blackwater, they won’t only own the Sinclair name. They’ll own every family that helped build these islands.’”
A bullet ricocheted from the wall.
Ward returned fire.
“We’re out of time.”
He pointed toward the staircase.
“Nathan, take Elanore and Storm to the cliffs. Ben and I will stop them at the second gate.”
“No,” Mom said.
Ward looked at her.
“You’re injured.”
“And I’m the only person here who knows how to close the first gate.”
Nathan’s jaw tightened.
“You’re not going deeper.”
“Nathan—”
“No.”
The single word silenced everyone.
Mom stared at him.
Nathan stood between her and the passage, his clothes soaked, blood streaking one temple.
“You were beaten. Tied up. Dragged through a tunnel. You’re going outside.”
“I made James a promise.”
“James is dead.”
Mom flinched.
Nathan’s expression softened, but he didn’t move.
“I loved him too. I respected him more than any man I’ve ever known. But I won’t let one of his secrets get you killed.”
“You don’t get to decide that.”
“You’re right.”
Nathan cupped her face gently.
“That decision belongs to you. But before you make it, look at your daughter.”
Mom turned toward me.
I wanted to tell her Nathan was right.
I wanted to beg her to leave.
But beneath the fear in her eyes, I saw the same thing I had seen in Grandpa’s journal.
Duty.
The kind that could destroy a person if they carried it alone.
“We go together,” I said.
Ward swore beneath his breath.
Nathan looked ready to argue.
“All of us,” I continued. “We close the gate and leave together.”
“This isn’t a family outing,” Ward said.
“No. It’s a family secret. And I’m done letting those secrets kill the people I love.”
Ben looked toward the Blackwater passage.
“They’re getting farther ahead.”
Ward studied each of us.
His gaze stopped on me.
“You stay between Nathan and me.”
“I will.”
“You do exactly what I tell you.”
“I will.”
“If I say run—”
“I run.”
He stepped closer.
“And if I say leave me?”
My heart tightened.
“I won’t.”
“Storm.”
“You knew the answer before you asked.”
Something passed through his eyes.
Fear.
Not for himself.
For me.
Then he turned away.
“Ben, lead.”
We followed the tracks deeper beneath the island.
The passage widened until the walls disappeared beyond the reach of our flashlights.
The water rose from our ankles to our knees.
Cold currents pulled at my legs.
Overhead, the mountain groaned.
Mom stayed close to Nathan.
Despite his objections, she walked on her own.
But their hands remained joined.
Neither of them seemed aware of it.
I was.
We found the first gate less than a hundred yards ahead.
It stood three stories tall, embedded between two walls of black volcanic rock.
Rust streamed down its metal surface.
One half had already lifted.
Ocean water thundered beneath it, pouring into the lower chamber.
A huge wheel turned slowly beside the gate.
Its gears hadn’t moved in decades.
Until tonight.
Mom pointed toward a control housing on the opposite ledge.
“I can close it from there.”
The metal walkway between us and the controls had partially collapsed.
Below it, water churned through the chamber.
Ben tested the remaining section with his boot.
“It might hold one person.”
“I’ll go,” Mom said.
Nathan stepped in front of her.
“No.”
“You don’t know the mechanism.”
“Tell me.”
“It requires two controls to be engaged simultaneously.”
“Then tell Storm.”
Mom looked at me.
I nodded.
Ward did not.
“Absolutely not.”
“Ward—”
“No.”
A shot struck the railing beside his hand.
The men had caught up with us.
“Cover!” Ben shouted.
Ward pushed me behind the gate housing as gunfire filled the chamber.
Nathan covered Mom with his body.
Ben fired toward the tunnel.
A man appeared behind the rocks.
Ward dropped him.
A second man ran across the upper ledge toward the turning wheel.
“He’s going for the gate!” Mom cried.
Nathan fired.
The bullet struck the man’s shoulder, spinning him around.
But he didn’t fall.
He reached the wheel and pulled a metal key from his pocket.
Grandpa’s key.
Mom lunged forward.
“Nathan!”
“I see him.”
Nathan fired again.
The man ducked behind the wheel.
A grinding sound rolled through the cavern.
The gate lifted another foot.
Water exploded beneath it.
The walkway tore away from the wall.
Ward grabbed me as the section beneath my feet collapsed.
For one breathless second, I hung above the churning water.
Then he hauled me against him.
My hands locked behind his neck.
His arm crushed me to his chest.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
He looked furious.
But his hand shook against my back.
“Ward—”
“Don’t.”
One word.
Filled with everything he couldn’t say.
Then a bullet struck the rock above us.
He pulled me down.
“The controls!” Mom shouted.
The damaged walkway swung between the ledges, held by a single chain.
There was no longer a safe path across.
But the wheel kept turning.
The gate kept rising.
And the water kept coming.
Ward looked at the chain.
Then at me.
“No.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“I can make it.”
“No.”
“I’ve climbed rigging in hurricanes.”
“This isn’t rigging.”
“It’s close enough.”
He caught my wrist.
“I am not letting you cross that.”
“If the gate opens completely, none of us gets out.”
Ward’s grip tightened.
Behind him, Ben and Nathan continued firing toward the passage.
Mom shouted instructions over the noise.
Someone had to reach the controls.
I touched Ward’s face.
He went utterly still.
“I’ll come back.”
His eyes held mine.
“You’d better.”
I stepped onto the broken walkway.
Metal groaned beneath my weight.
The chain swung over the water.
I gripped the railing and moved forward.
One step.
Then another.
The gate shuddered beneath me.
A wave struck the underside of the walkway, throwing it sideways.
“Storm!” Ward shouted.
My foot slipped.
I caught the railing with both hands.
Pain tore through my shoulder.
The water roared below me.
“Don’t look down!” Mom yelled.
I pulled myself up.
Across the cavern, the wounded kidnapper stood beside the wheel.
Blood covered his arm.
Grandpa’s key remained in the mechanism.
He looked at me.
Then smiled.
“You Sinclair women never learned when to let go.”
I stepped onto the far ledge.
“No.”
I reached for the controls.
“We learned that from Grandpa.”
The man lifted his gun.
A shot exploded through the cavern.
His body jerked.
Then toppled into Blackwater.
I turned.
Ward stood on the opposite ledge, his weapon still raised.
“Close the gate!”
Mom shouted the sequence.
“Red lever first!”
I pulled it.
Nothing happened.
“Now the lower wheel—three turns clockwise!”
The wheel resisted.
I threw my weight against it.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
The machinery screamed.
The gate stopped rising.
“Blue lever!” Mom yelled.
I reached for it.
A hand closed around my ankle.
The man Nathan had shot hadn’t fallen into the water.
He hung from the ledge beneath me.
Blood covered his mouth.
Hatred filled his eyes.
“You don’t know what your grandfather buried.”
I kicked at his hand.
“What’s beneath the second gate?”
His smile returned.
“Your inheritance.”
He yanked my leg.
I hit the stone.
My fingers scraped across the floor, inches from the blue lever.
The man pulled himself higher.
Ward raced onto the broken walkway.
It twisted violently beneath him.
“Storm!”
I kicked again.
The man’s grip slipped.
I reached for the lever.
My fingertips touched the handle.
The man dragged me backward.
Then a hand appeared from the water and seized his wrist.
Nathan.
He had entered the flooded chamber from the lower ledge.
He wrenched the man away from me.
The kidnapper fell into the current.
Nathan caught the rock with one hand.
“Nathan!” Mom screamed.
Ward reached my side.
I grabbed the blue lever.
He grabbed Nathan’s arm.
I pulled.
The gate slammed downward.
The cavern shook.
Water exploded through the shrinking opening.
Ward hauled Nathan onto the ledge seconds before the metal gate crashed shut.
Silence followed.
Not complete silence.
Water still dripped from the rocks.
The old machinery still groaned.
But the terrible roar had stopped.
Mom crossed the walkway with Ben’s help.
The instant she reached us, she threw her arms around Nathan.
“You could have died.”
Nathan held her tightly.
“So could Storm.”
“That doesn’t make it better.”
“No.”
Mom pulled back and struck his chest.
“You jumped into that water.”
“Yes.”
“You are the most infuriating man I have ever known.”
A tired smile touched his face.
“James used to say the same thing.”
Mom’s anger disappeared.
Her hand rested over Nathan’s heart.
“James and Daniel trusted you.”
“I failed them.”
“No.” Her eyes filled with tears. “You loved them.”
Nathan looked away.
Mom touched his cheek and brought his gaze back to hers.
“And you loved me.”
No one moved.
Nathan’s face lost all color.
“Elanore—”
“I always knew.”
His breath left him.
Behind me, Ben cleared his throat and looked toward the ceiling.
Ward found the closed gate fascinating.
I smiled through my tears.
Nathan stared at Mom.
“All these years?”
“All these years.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“You never gave me the chance.”
“I thought you needed time.”
“I did.”
“And then?”
“You disappeared.”
“I was protecting you.”
Mom shook her head.
“No, Nathan. You were hiding.”
A mechanical click came from the gate.
Grandpa’s key remained inside the wheel.
Mom stepped toward it.
“That isn’t right.”
Ward immediately moved in front of me.
“What?”
“The key should have been destroyed when the gate closed.”
A narrow seam appeared in the rock behind the wheel.
Stone scraped against stone.
A hidden door slowly opened.
Cold air flowed from the darkness beyond it.
On the opposite wall, words had been carved into the rock.
I lifted my flashlight.
The letters were faded.
Mom read them aloud.
“Blood opens the first gate.”
Nathan stepped beside her.
Ward lifted his light toward the final line.
I felt him go still.
Because beneath Grandpa’s warning were four words that changed everything.
THE SECOND REQUIRES FIVE.