Because Pastor Eli?
He’s not the architect.
He’s just the door.
And somewhere out there, someone much smarter is building an army.
8
Boone
The drive back to the cabin is quiet.
Too quiet.
Wren sits beside me in the passenger seat, staring out the window as the Montana mountains roll past in long shadows of pine and rock.
Her notebook rests closed in her lap.
That alone tells me how serious this has just become.
Normally, she’d already be analyzing.
Cross-referencing.
Breaking down everything Eli said.
Instead, she’s thinking.
Which means she’s worried.
I turn the truck onto the gravel road leading toward the cabin.
Dust kicks up behind us.
Finally, she speaks.
“Years.”
Her voice is calm, but tight.
“That’s what he said.”
“Yeah.”
“They’ve been watching us for years.”
“Apparently.”
She exhales slowly.
“That means this network isn’t new.”
“No.”
“Not even close.”
I nod once.
