Chapter 3 - The Burning Trap
They were actually going to burn us alive inside the basement to make it look like a tragic wedding day accident.
Smoke began pouring aggressively into the cellar, filling the damp air with toxic, choking fumes.
Sophie coughed violently and buried her face into my tuxedo jacket.
"Daddy, I am so scared," she whimpered, gripping my shirt with tiny, trembling fingers.
I refused to let my little girl die in this dark hole because of my terrible mistakes.
I frantically scanned the cavernous room, searching desperately for any alternative exit.
Near the very back of the cellar, I spotted a small, rusted ventilation grate mounted high on the stone wall.
I dragged a heavy wooden wine barrel across the dirt floor and positioned it directly underneath the vent.
I climbed onto the barrel, wrapping my fingers around the rusted iron bars of the grate.
I pulled with every single ounce of adrenaline and desperate strength I possessed.
The ancient masonry crumbled, and the heavy metal grate tore free from the wall, crashing loudly to the ground.
The flames at the top of the stairs were growing intensely, roaring like a hungry beast as the wooden door finally gave way.
I lifted Sophie high above my head, pushing her gently through the narrow, dark opening.
"Crawl toward the light and do not look back, sweetie," I commanded her firmly.
I squeezed my broad shoulders into the tight stone shaft, scraping my skin raw as I wormed my way forward.
We emerged into the cool, fresh evening air, tumbling out onto the grassy lawn behind the manor.
I gasped for clean oxygen, wrapping my arms around Sophie in a moment of pure, desperate relief.
But that relief was instantly shattered by the sound of a pistol cocking right behind my head.
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"You always were too stubborn to just die quietly, Daniel," Greg whispered.
I turned slowly to see my best friend aiming a suppressed handgun directly at my face.
