Tunnels Novels & Stories

“They haven’t been used in years. I’d almost forgotten about them.” Tunnels? My ears perked up. “Tunnels? What kind of tunnels?” “They run under the Estate,” Dawson explained. “They were used way back, for… well, for all sorts of things. Smuggling, secret meetings, you name it. There’s an entrance hidden in the woods on the north side, and I think there might be another one somewhere near the old stables.” Hope, a tiny little spark, flickered in my chest. “Could we use them?”

A wall was up and I was looking in from a small window on the outside. I haven't even realised it yet, but I have been crying. Wet streams are just flowing without question down my cheeks. I can tell, because it has a ticklish effect on my skin. The doctor noticed me, "Mam this is a private room, I would need you to leave or I will have to call security." As the words make their way into my brain like cutting shears, Noah returns from the alternate universe he was trapped in just moments ago. Our eyes met as the door shut behind me.

Madison whispered, “He’s compensating too much. Overcorrecting. That’s a pattern we can use later.” Ian’s grin was audible. “He’s human, and he knows it. This is beautiful.” Again, we withdrew before pressing the advantage. Patience was the thread. Every pull too early risked unraveling the web. The tunnels beneath the old rail line were the culmination of the first phase. Echoes bounced endlessly, direction meaningless, every sound folded back on itself. We set faint markers — a dropped coin, a flickering light from a battery-powered lantern hidden just out of sight.

Sawyer said confidently. “Good to know,” I chuckled. “What brings you here?” "All ten tunnels are complete," he said, placing the updated map on the desk in front of me. "Every tunnel has been marked with its access points, depth, and load capacity. The map has been updated from the original blueprints to reflect the final construction. Any deviations from the original plan have been noted in the margins with explanations." “Wow… that’s impressive,” I said, leaning in as I reached for the map.

As my consciousness began to fade, I forced myself to reach out and fumble for the burner phone hidden on me. [That favor you owe me—you can pay it back now.] The moment the message had been sent, both the display on my phone and my mind plunged into darkness. I had no idea how much time had passed before the pungent stench of disinfectant finally jarred me awake. My body felt as though it had been crushed into pieces and then forcefully patched back together. The hollow emptiness in my lower abdomen served as a constant, brutal reminder of everything that had just transpired.

I breathed. Damian did not answer at first. His jaw was clenched, his eyes on the road before us. At last, he muttered, "These tunnels extend miles. They were built centuries back—some link to the old ruins beyond the city, some to the river, and others." He lost the words on the wind, his eyes frowning. "Others?" I prompted. "Some lead right into death traps." I gulped.

The emergency tunnels hadn’t been used in decades. They were carved beneath the Andorran mountains during the original consolidation—when the Lancasters believed Crane’s operatives might breach the compound from above. A last resort. An underground system of fallback routes, sealed and shielded, meant only for the bloodline. Most believed the tunnels had collapsed long ago. But as Charlotte and Elias moved deeper into the service hatch beneath the east wing, the walls told a different story. They weren’t crumbling. They were preserved.

(Alicia) “Tunnels?” Rocco and I ask at the same time. “Yes. There are tunnels leading from Marvinda right into Wolfsreach.” Rocco looks confused, and about to blow a gasket all at the same time. But he doesn’t say anything. I can feel him reeling across the bond, though.

Something had been overlooked—something vital. “The tunnels!” I gasped, the realization hitting me like a ton of bricks. “Damon, it’s the tunnels!” “What?” Damon shouted back, struggling to be heard over the roar of battle. “The tunnels under the camp!” I explained, my voice shaking with urgency. “They’re using them to breach our defenses from below!” Damon’s eyes widened as he understood the gravity of the situation. The tunnels—an old network that ran beneath Silverwood, forgotten by most—had always been a potential weak spot.

“What other intel do we have about Grand Central Station?” “Tunnels,” Brandon Keen, Elliott’s son, summed up. After everyone turned to look at him, he elaborated. “There’s a hell of a lot of tunnels from GCS that veer off to the buildings all around it, so it’s a great place for Vampires to hang out. They can go up through the buildings, find someone to eat, and then bring them back beneath the terminal.” “Great, just what we need. More goddamn tunnels.” Cale Ryan, one of the Healers, who had incidentally gotten shot by friendly fire in their last attack concerning a tunnel, did not look amused.