The boy vanished from the yard, and eight years later, his father looked under the neighbor’s doghouse and went pale…

Hope you understand.” Thomas couldn’t hold back. He pointedly glanced at the open trapdoor.

“What’s down there, Michael?” Michael’s posture stiffened, his expression wary. “Nothing that concerns you.” “I was looking for you,” Thomas pressed.

“Got worried when you didn’t answer the phone or the door. Your car’s here, but you were gone.” Michael didn’t address that directly.

Instead, he glanced at the German Shepherd. “You moved my dog.” “She was agitated and kept barking at the bunker door,” Thomas explained.

“I moved her to calm her down.” Michael’s jaw visibly tightened. Thomas decided to be direct.

“Why have you been lying to me all day, Michael? You said you’d bring the dog inside, but she’s still here. Said you’d finish the big kennel this morning, but it’s barely started. Claimed you were meeting friends, then went to the breeder alone.”

Thomas paused, studying Michael’s increasingly agitated expression. “What’s really going on?” For a moment, silence hung between them, broken only by the wind and the German Shepherd’s occasional whine. Then, without warning, Michael lunged forward.

Thomas barely had time to react as Michael slammed into him, grabbing his jacket and shoving him back with surprising force. They grappled in the snow. Michael’s face twisted with a mix of rage and fear.

“You should’ve minded your own business,” Michael growled, landing a heavy punch to Thomas’s stomach. The blow knocked the wind out of Thomas, but years of physical work had kept him strong despite his grief. He managed to block Michael’s next swing and push him off.

“What are you hiding, Michael?” Michael didn’t answer. Instead, he charged again, this time driving his knee into Thomas’s gut on impact. Thomas doubled over, gasping, and Michael seized the moment to shove him toward the open trapdoor.

“Get in there,” Michael ordered, his voice now eerily calm despite the violence of his actions. “Crawl in and climb down!” Thomas straightened, wincing from the pain in his stomach. “You’re not making me go down there!” A cold smile spread across Michael’s face as he pulled a pistol from behind his back.

“Either you go down alive, or I throw your body down there. Your choice!” The sight of the gun sent a surge of fear through Thomas, but he kept his composure. “The police are already on their way, Michael.

Emily called them when I couldn’t find you. If you shoot, every neighbor will hear.” Irritation flashed across Michael’s face, but he kept the gun trained on Thomas.

Instead of firing, he stepped forward and struck Thomas across the face with the pistol, making him stagger. Blood streamed from a cut above Thomas’s eye as Michael kept pushing him toward the kennel, trying to force him through the narrow opening. Despite the pain and disorientation from the blow, Thomas resisted, grabbing Michael’s wrist and twisting it until the gun fell from his hand.

In a desperate move, Thomas kicked the weapon, sending it skidding across the kennel’s wooden floor and down into the darkness of the bunker. Enraged, Michael lunged again, but this time Thomas was ready. He sidestepped and used Michael’s momentum against him, sending him crashing into the kennel’s wall.

In the distance, the wail of police sirens cut through the night air. Michael’s head snapped up at the sound, panic replacing rage in his expression. Moments later, two police cars pulled up in front of the house, their flashing lights bathing the snowy yard in alternating red and blue.

Officers quickly exited the vehicles, hands on their holsters, and approached the scuffle. “Police! Hands up where we can see them!” one officer shouted. Both men raised their hands, though Michael did so reluctantly, his face a mask of frustration and defeat.

The officers separated them, one checking Thomas’s bloodied face while another cuffed Michael. “What’s going on here?” the first officer demanded. Before Thomas could answer, Emily appeared, having followed the police cars from their house.

“Thomas, are you okay?” she cried, rushing to him. “I’m fine,” he assured her, though the cut above his eye still bled heavily. Thomas quickly explained to the officers what had happened—how Michael acted strangely all day, how he found the bunker under the dog kennel, and how Michael attacked him when he started asking questions.

“He pulled a gun on me,” Thomas added. “I managed to disarm him, but the gun fell into the bunker.” The officers looked at Michael, who remained silent, his expression unreadable…