I take a deep breath as he fits the key into the lock. The mechanism turns with a heavy click, and the door swings open on rusted hinges. Musty air rushes out, making me cough and cover my nose.
"Jesus," Matvey mutters from behind us.
The interior is dim, lit only by the light filtering through cracks in the walls. As my eyes adjust, I realize what we're looking at.
A crypt.
Coffins line the walls, some resting on stone platforms, others sealed into wall burials. The air is thick with dust and decay, and the silence feels oppressive, like the dead are watching us disturb their rest.
Andrey moves forward first, his flashlight cutting through the darkness. "Start searching. Look for anything that might be a clue."
I follow him deeper into the crypt, my boots echoing against the stone floor. The first coffin I open contains a skeleton, the bones yellowed with age. There's no way to identify who it was. No nameplate, no personal effects. Just remains that have been here long enough to become anonymous.
The second coffin is the same. And the third.
I move to the wall burials, carefully opening the sealed compartments. Some are empty, just hollow spaces carved into stone. Others contain old papers that crumble when I touch them or jewelry that's tarnished beyond recognition.
"Mariya."
Andrey's voice is tight and strained. I turn and find him standing in front of one of the wall burials, his expression dark with fury.
"What is it?"
He steps aside so I can see the contents. Jewelry and icons, carefully arranged inside the compartment. The pieces are ornate, expensive, and clearly valuable. But it's not the monetary worth that has Andrey's jaw clenched tight.
"These belonged to my family," he says quietly. "The heirlooms I've been looking for. Yegor knew where they were all this time."
I stare at the items, my stomach twisting. Bogdan had them all along. He'd stolen from Andrey's family and hidden the evidence here, in this crypt where no one would think to look.
"Andrey—"
"Found something!" Matvey's voice echoes from the far corner of the crypt.
We move toward him quickly. He's standing beside one of the larger coffins, his flashlight pointed at the floor beneath it. There's a seam in the stone, barely visible unless you're looking for it.
A trap door.
Andrey and Matvey work together to shift the coffin aside, revealing the door fully. The hinges are old but functional, and when Andrey pulls it open, a ladder descends into the darkness below.
"Stay close," Andrey says, his hand finding mine.
We climb down one at a time, the air growing colder with each step. When we reach the bottom, Matvey shines his flashlight around the space.
What we find makes my breath catch.
A mass burial. At least ten bodies, maybe more, laid out in a shallow pit carved into the earth. The remains are old, skeletal, but there's something deliberate about the way they're arranged. This wasn't a random dumping ground. This was intentional.
"Fuck," Andrey breathes beside me.
I move closer, my eyes adjusting to the dim light. That's when I see it.
A small podium stands next to the burial, carved from the same stone as the walls. On top of it rests a plaque, the metal tarnished but still legible.
Names are engraved into the surface. Ten of them, listed in careful script.
Andrey steps forward, his flashlight illuminating the plaque. I watch his expression shift as he reads, the color rapidly draining from his face.
"No," he says quietly. Then louder, angrier. "No. Fuck. No."
