I stayed with her until her breathing deepened, marveling at my beautiful miracle of a child who’d survived so much already.
Langston had been so desperate for an heir that he’d spared no expense, sending me to the best fertility clinic with the latest technology. He’d controlled everything, even selecting the embryo himself from the genetic screening results, choosing traits like he was customizing a car.
But Sophia wasn’t his. She’d never been his, no matter how much he’d paid or what paperwork he’d signed. She was mine.
Once I was sure she was sound asleep, I slipped out of her room, leaving her door cracked just enough to hear if she called out.
The house was quiet except for the soft hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of settling wood. I made tea I didn’t want, wrapping my hands around the warm mug while I sat at the kitchen table, facing the back door. The tea grew cold as I stared into the darkness beyond the window, seeing nothing but my own reflection—a pale, tired woman with watchful eyes.
Was the stranger at the motel Trent? If so, why wouldn’t he come directly to us? Unless he wasn’t here to check on us at all. Unless he was here because something had gone wrong. Because we were in danger.
“Stop it. You’re being paranoid,” I whispered. “It’s just a stranger passing through. People stay at motels all the time.”
But not in Garnett, not really. Not men who paid cash and carried guns and asked about local law enforcement.
The crawling sensation up my spine wasn’t new. I’d felt it in the days before Langston’s violence escalated, in the weeks before the cult leader started talking about “ascension.” My internal alarm—the one that had kept me alive through two abusive relationships—was more reliable than any security camera or system.
And right now, it was screaming.
CHAPTER 3
TRENT
The rimrocks offeredperfect sight lines to Evelyn’s house. I’d scouted this position six months ago before dropping them in Garnett, memorizing every approach, every vulnerability. The jagged outcropping of rock formed a natural blind where I could watch without being seen, the sparse pine coverage providing enough shadow to conceal my movement.
Perfect for a man who didn’t want to be found.
Perfect for a man who needed to protect without being noticed.
Six months since I’d dropped them here, but I still remembered every approach to that little blue house, every line of sight, every potential vulnerability. Six months of wondering if I’d made the right call, walking away.
I knelt and unzipped the duffel. Each piece of equipment came out in order, muscle memory guiding my hands as I assembled the surveillance kit. Long-range thermal imager. Directional microphone. Motion sensors for the perimeter. Satellite uplink that would beam any triggered alerts directly to my phone and to Edge Ops HQ.
The gear was newer than what I’d used last time I was here, courtesy of Kate’s constant upgrades. Lighter, more powerful, with better battery life. I positioned the thermal imager on its compact tripod, adjusting the focal length until Evelyn’s little blue house came into clear view through the eyepiece.
Two heat signatures glowed in the kitchen, one adult-sized, one child-sized. Evelyn and Sophia, safe at home. The tightness in my chest eased slightly.
I watched as they moved around the kitchen, the thermal imaging transforming them into glowing silhouettes against the cooler background of their house. The smaller figure—Sophia—seemed to be dancing or spinning in circles while the taller one—Evelyn—moved with the careful, measured steps I remembered so well.
Even as a glowing orange shape on a screen, I’d recognize her movements anywhere.
My mind slipped backward in time, to Hope’s Embrace. To the first time I’d seen her there, kneeling in the garden with a little girl beside her. The child had been maybe three, wearing the white robe all children wore in the community, clutching a stuffed rabbit like it was the only real thing in the world.
I’d been “Brother Vigil” then, two weeks into my cover as head of security. My mission: find and secure Tectra-X, the stolen seismic weapon Edge Ops believed the cult planned to trigger as part of their doomsday prophecy. Not rescue a woman and her child.
But plans change.
Evelyn had looked up as I’d passed, and our eyes had met for just a second. Long enough for me to see the same thing I saw in the mirror every morning—someone pretending. Someone watching. Someone who didn’t belong.
She’d gone back to showing her daughter how to plant seeds, but I’d felt her awareness track me across the compound.
Over two years, I’d learned her routines. Breakfast in the communal dining hall, Sophia always on her left. Teaching the children in the old schoolhouse until Hopeful shut it down. Evening prayers where she stood in the back, lips moving but eyes too sharp, too alert. She watched everything. Noticed when people disappeared. Noticed when the rhetoric shifted from salvation to destruction.
Just like me.
The first time Sophia had approached me on her own, I’d been inspecting the perimeter fence. She’d appeared at my elbow without a sound, rabbit clutched to her chest.
“Brother Vigil?” Her voice had been so small. “Mama says you keep us safe.”
