Aunt June yanked open a trapdoor beneath a rug.
“Move.”
Mom pushed me down first.
The stairs were narrow and metal, descending into darkness. I stumbled, caught the railing, and looked back just as a white-blue light swept across the cabin windows above us.
“Mom!”
“I’m right behind you.”
She slammed the trapdoor shut.
Below, the tunnel smelled like wet stone and old electricity. Aunt June flicked on a red flashlight and led us through a passage barely wide enough for two people. The hum faded behind us, but my pulse filled my ears.
“Tell me,” I said.
Mom did not answer.
“Tell me now.”
She stopped.
For the first time that night, she looked less like a captain and more like a woman carrying too much weight for too many years.
“Elias Voss was part of Ghostwing,” she said. “He was brilliant. Dangerous. Charming when he wanted to be. He believed the technology should not be destroyed. He believed whoever controlled invisibility controlled the next century.”
