their matching blue dresses that marked them as his brides, and all with their hair worn in a single braid down their backs. When The Enemy’s men entered the bunker’s meeting hall, the first thing they’d see would be the women, the girls, their babies. “We face a dark hour, my friends, but I am confident of our victory. The Enemy may enter our doors, but I, your leader, will not let him take your freedom!”
A loud boom sounded just beyond the doors of the sanctuary.
A few of the women screamed, and Caleb’s mother, Lydia, began crying, hugging her baby to her chest. Though his wife had just turned eighteen, had only been brought into the family a year ago, her lack of trust and cooperation irritated him. He moved his gaze to the girl next to Lydia. “Rachel, come here.”
His youngest wife hesitated, glancing up at him with wide eyes, then handed baby Eve to another woman. Head bowed, she obediently stepped forward.
“Bring Lydia with you.”
Rachel and Lydia exchanged a look, then joined hands and crept forward together, heads down. Another echoing blast sounded outside, and the girls flinched.
Kent walked to the podium, where two ceremonial long swords were displayed with blades crossed. He took them both down and handed one to Wayne. As he walked back toward his young wives, Lydia’s eyes rounded.
“Rachel, hold the baby. Lydia, lift your skirt and bend over.” When the girls were slow to act, he slapped the sword against the podium. The sound echoed through the sanctuary, as loud and ominous as the explosions outside, where The Enemy’s minions entered the compound. “Now!”
Baby Caleb squawked as Rachel scooped him from Lydia’s arms. Lydia turned and exposed her undergarment-covered backside with trembling hands.
Stepping up to her, Kent raised the sword and intoned, “Let it be known that any act of disobedience, lack of faith or show of rebellion shall be dealt with swiftly and severely! On behalf of The Truth and on the authority bestowed upon me by this family, I reprimand you!”
Kent swung the flat side of the blade against Lydia’s bottom.
She cried out in pain as he lashed her. From the corner of his eye, he saw Garrett Ware, one of his newest men, an unproven soldier of The Sword, step closer to the podium, his body tense.
“Be still, Mr. Ware. Do not interfere.”
Ware sent him a glare but stood down, his hands restless at his sides. Garrett Ware could be a problem. Kent was unconvinced of his loyalty to the family.
Lifting the sword again, Kent struck Lydia again. “By my hand, I will strike down The Enemy and cut out the heart of tyranny and deception!”
As he raised the blade for a third strike, a loud crash announced the government’s army had arrived, and the locked door at the back of the meeting hall rattled on its hinges. Once. Twice.
Rachel rushed over to huddle with Lydia, the young girls holding each other, Caleb between them.
Kent grabbed Rachel by the braid and yanked her away from her friend, positioning her in front of him.
The door smashed open under the power of the battering ram the black-clad men wielded. The women gasped, and those who scuttled backward in fear met the resistance of his servants, his army of faithful men who stood ready for battle.
“Kent Pitts, you are surrounded. Surrender peacefully and order your followers to stand down!” The Enemy’s minion called from his bullhorn.
“Better that I sacrifice my followers, my wives and children and release them to The Truth than leave them to be cast into the realm of The Enemy!” Kent shouted. With that, he drove the long blade into Rachel’s lower back and let her slump to the floor. Lydia screamed, and Kent seized her by the arm.
“No!” she cried, clutching her baby to her chest as tears streamed down her face.
Kent nodded to Wayne, who surged forward to meet the swarming ATF and FBI agents, his sword raised for battle.
Gas canisters were lobbed to the front of the sanctuary, and noxious gases spewed forth. Poisons, just like the voices had told him.
Chaos erupted as his faithless followers tried to escape the stinging gas rather than defend their leader. Only Garrett Wade moved against the surge of the family going toward the exits. His newest recruit shoved past the other men and was heading for the podium. Toward Rachel’s fallen body.
Seeing his people scatter, Kent seethed, and he squeezed harder on Lydia’s arm when she tugged against his hold, trying to break free.
He drew back the ceremonial blade, still wet with Rachel’s blood, and plunged it into Lydia’s side, piercing her heart.
“No!” Garrett Wade bellowed, rushing forward to snatch Caleb from Lydia’s arms as she crumpled. His new recruit held the baby close and snarled at Kent over the din of the family’s destruction. “Damn it, you murdering bastard! Why? She was an innocent girl!”
He aimed the tip of the long sword at Wade. “Either turn and fight The Enemy’s soldiers or die by my hand!”
The next instant a tiny dart-like probe hit Kent in the throat and volts of agony flooded his body. Like the hounds of hell, the men in gas masks and flak jackets descended on him and took him captive. As darkness overtook him, the voices spoke one last time in Kent’s ear.
The Enemy may have won this battle, but do not surrender the war. Fight on, mighty leader, fight on!
And fight he would. For his freedom, for his children. But most of all, for vengeance.
“‘Teens slain during raid on compound,’” Lila Greene said, reading the news story headline on her laptop screen, horror twisting through her.
As if answering, her brown-and-black tabby, Chloe, meowed loudly.
“I know! Horrible, right?” Lila said to the cat, her only companion in her parents’ isolated mountain cabin. She’d moved to the family’s remote vacation home for the privacy, for the inspiring views it provided for her work...and for the peacefulness it afforded her broken heart. As an artist, she preferred plenty of uninterrupted time by herself to experiment with different mediums and bring her commissioned oil paintings to life. As a casualty of her ex-fiancé’s cheating, theft and lies, she considered the location an escape as she healed from her deep wounds of betrayal.
She’d been hard at work on an oil painting of the West Virginia landscape near her cabin when she heard the first pings on her window of the predicted ice pellets. She, along with the rest of the populace of Collins Ridge, West Virginia, had been glued to weather forecasts as the wintry mix moved in from the northwest. The headline about the raid on the nearby cult compound had snagged her attention as she’d logged on to the internet to check the current weather update.
Now, sidetracked by the tragic news story, Lila clicked the video associated with the headline and watched the sound bite that included footage of the raid conducted by the FBI and ATF just a handful of miles from her cabin.
“Pitts, the self-proclaimed leader of The
