My ex left me for a millionaire and didn’t send a single dollar for our daughter for three years. Then, out of nowhere, he mailed her a dirty old doll. I almost threw it away… until I woke up at 3 a.m. and saw my little girl pulling something out of its stomach: “Save me. I’m being held captive.”

The fog rolling off the Pacific Ocean into Topanga Canyon was so thick you could taste the salt and damp pine on your tongue.

It was 1:30 a.m. Sunday morning.

Chloe was safe miles away, resting in a secure, underground children's shelter operated by an old, trusted friend of Marcus’s—a former federal judge who owed Marcus his life. I had kissed her forehead before leaving, holding her tight, promising her that when she woke up, the nightmare would be over.

Now, I was kneeling in the muddy brush of a steep canyon ravine, wearing black tactical clothes, a heavy rain parka, and a pair of thick leather gloves.

Beside me, Marcus was adjusting a handheld signal jammer powered by a heavy lithium battery pack mounted in his backpack.

"This jammer will kill all cellular signals, Wi-Fi feeds, and wireless security cameras within a fifty-yard radius," Marcus whispered, his breath steaming in the freezing air. "But the moment I flip this switch, their main control room will receive an automated 'signal loss' alert. We’ll have exactly twelve minutes before private security sweeps the perimeter."

"Twelve minutes is enough," I said, checking the heavy steel crowbar held in my right hand.

Thirty feet below us, half-buried under rotting oak leaves and fallen boulders, was the rusted iron grate of the 1920 drainage culvert.

We scrambled down the muddy slope, slipping on wet rocks until we reached the mouth of the tunnel. The stench of stagnant water, wet rust, and decay blew out of the dark opening like a foul breath.

I shoved the end of the crowbar between the rusted iron bars of the gate. "Help me!"

Marcus slammed his weight onto the bar beside me. Metal groaned against metal. With a sharp, screeching SNAP, the ancient lock welds sheared off, and the iron grate swung inward into the darkness.

"Flipping the jammer now," Marcus said, pressing a red button on his chest strap. A quiet, high-pitched hum vibrated through the air. "Clock’s ticking, Sarah. Eleven minutes, fifty-nine seconds."

We clicked on our muted red-lens headlamps and crawled into the narrow concrete pipe.

The tunnel was cramped, barely four feet high, forcing us to move on our hands and knees through two inches of freezing, filthy water. The walls were covered in slick moss and ancient concrete cracks, winding upward at a steep incline into the heart of the mountain.

My muscles burned, my hands went numb from the icy water, and every breath tasted like wet concrete. But every time my strength faltered, I pictured Harrison’s hollow, bruised face on that video monitor, pleading for his life.

Three years. For three years, I had hated him. I had cursed his name every time I looked at a pile of unpaid bills, every time Chloe asked why her friends had dads at soccer practice and she didn't. But seeing him stripped of his humanity, turned into a caged animal by a sociopath... my anger had burned away, leaving only an absolute, unyielding drive to drag him out of the dark.

After eight minutes of grueling crawling, the concrete pipe terminated at a rusted iron ladder extending straight up into a vertical brick shaft.

Marcus pointed his flashlight upward. At the top of the shaft was a heavy square steel hatch.

"That’s the utility access door for Level B3," Marcus whispered, checking his watch. "Nine minutes gone. We have three minutes before security responds to the jammer signal."

I climbed the rusted ladder rungs, my boots slipping on wet iron, until my back was pressed against the top rung. I placed my hands against the heavy steel hatch and pushed upward with all my body weight.

It was locked from the inside with a heavy sliding bolt.

"It won't budge!" I whispered down frantically.

Marcus climbed up right behind me, pulled a small electric rotary saw from his tool belt, and pressed the diamond blade against the iron latch bolt.

SCREECH!

Sparks erupted inside the dark shaft, casting wild, blinding flashes of light against our faces. The smell of burning steel filled the narrow air space.