THE BOY WITH THE HAMMER WHO UNLOCKED THE TERRIFYING SECRET BENEATH THE CHURCH ALTAR

The damp chill of the underground catacombs wrapped around Leo like a wet shroud as he descended the crumbling stone steps one by one. The sickly yellow glow grew brighter, casting long, writhing shadows against the rough-hewn limestone walls. Every breath he took tasted of dust, old mortar, and something metallic—the unmistakable tang of fresh copper.

At the bottom of the stairs, the narrow corridor opened into a vast, subterranean chamber directly beneath the main altar of St. Jude’s. This was part of the original 19th-century foundation, long abandoned and sealed off from the public blueprints. Yet, it was far from empty.

A makeshift medical station had been set up against the far damp wall. IV stands, saline bags, and surgical trays filled with scalpels and syringes gleamed under the harsh glare of a portable halogen work light.

Leo froze behind a thick stone pillar, his breath catching in his throat.

Standing near a heavy oak table were two figures: Aunt Clara, her designer black dress stained with dirt, and Dr. Marcus, the family physician who had officially signed his mother’s death certificate three days ago.

“The boy saw the ring, Marcus,” Clara hissed, her voice echoing sharply off the vaulted stone ceiling. She was pacing frantically, her manicured hands wringing a bloodstained gauze pad. “He smashed the lacquer box right in the middle of the service! Richard is trying to contain him in the vestry now, but if he reaches the authorities, we are all finished. Every single penny of the trust fund goes to probate, and our accounts are frozen.”

Dr. Marcus calmly adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses, sliding a long surgical syringe into a leather medical bag.

“Calm down, Clara,” the doctor replied smoothly, his voice devoid of any human warmth. “Richard handles the physical obstacles, and I handled the sedative dosage. Your sister-in-law is currently breathing, but her heart rate is dangerously erratic due to the lack of oxygen during the ceremony. If we don’t move her deeper into the lower vault tonight, the noise upstairs will draw unwanted attention.”

Leo’s ears rang with fury. They hadn’t just faked her death; they were actively drugging her, slowly bleeding her dry of her inheritance and her life to pay off gambling debts.

“You monsters,” Leo whispered fiercely, though the words were meant only for himself.

Just as he raised the heavy brass poker to step out from behind the pillar, a heavy hand clamped firmly over his mouth from behind, and a whispered voice hissed directly into his ear: