Something hollow.
I froze.
I touched the rock again.
The same sound.
My breath caught in my throat.
I dropped to my knees and started digging with my hands, faster and faster.
Mud packed under my nails.
The skin on my fingers split.
But I didn’t stop.
Until my fingertips struck wood.
For illustration purposes only
It couldn’t be.
I cleared away more dirt.
A small, dark box emerged, wrapped in cloth rotted by time.
It had a rusted metal clasp…
and two initials carved into the lid that stole my breath.
TM
My grandfather’s initials.
And just as I reached out to open it, I heard footsteps outside the cave.
Who had climbed all the way up there, and how did they know I was inside?
What had my grandfather hidden in that mountain before he died?
And if that box had been buried for decades…
why had someone come that exact night?
Part 2…
The footsteps stopped right at the cave entrance. My already racing heart seemed to freeze. A man’s shadow stretched from the gray morning light, sliding across the ground until it reached my dirt-covered hands.
“You shouldn’t have come back, Elena,” said a voice I hadn’t heard in eleven years—but would recognize anywhere.
It was my brother, Julián. No longer the skinny boy I remembered, but a man in designer clothes, a gold watch, and eyes colder than any prison cell.
“How did you know I was here?” I asked, shielding the box with my body.
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