Chapter 5
Bear
When we make it back to our apartment, I sense that something is wrong. I can smell a strange chemical scent. I hesitate at the door, but Rick shoots me a weird look and brushes past me. Natalie follows, and she makes it halfway across the living room before I register what’s off.
The door wasn’t locked. We always lock the fuckin’ door. It’s basic safety.
“Stop,” I say, my voice louder and more alarmed than I mean it to.
They both freeze. Rick turns first, his expression serious. Natalie doesn’t move at all. She just looks at me. Her eyes are wide and alarmed.
“What is it?” Rick asks.
“Someone’s been in our apartment,” I growl. “The door wasn’t locked.”
Rick immediately pulls out the handgun he keeps in a holster at the small of his back and holds it pointing straight up in the ready position.
He hisses to Natalie, “Stay behind us. If anything pops off, get the hell outta here.”
“I’ll call the police,” she says.
“Don’t. Not just yet, it might be nothing,” I answer. No point in getting the cops involved if it’s just something simple like Rick forgetting to lock the door this morning.
I slowly scan the room for anything that seems off. I move towards the hallway.
I curse under my breath because both bedroom doors are open and I know for a fact mine was shut. I make a quick motion to Rick, pointing to my eyes and then towards the doors. I want to look and see if anyone is still here.
My room’s been ransacked. Drawers are standing open, and my stuff is strewn about. Nothing appears to be missing. Natalie’s door is next. I stop short of the threshold.
The wall opposite her bed is covered in thick red marker.
Not drawings—writing. Lines upon lines of it, scrawled at different heights and angles, overlapping in places as if whoever wrote them couldn’t stop.
The words crawl across the paint in uneven, aggressive strokes, some pressed so hard the marker has bled and pooled.
Biblical phrases. Or fragments of them.
Suffer little children…
Spare the rod…
The Lord chastens those He loves…
Foolishness is bound in the heart of a child…
Some are written over and over again, the letters growing larger, more distorted each time. Others are crossed out violently, only to be rewritten beside them, darker and heavier. A few lines trail downward, smeared by a hand dragged through wet ink, like the words themselves are bleeding.
There’s no order to it, no passage quoted cleanly. Just punishment, obedience and suffering.
I can’t make sense of it, can’t figure out what message the intruder meant to leave behind—only that this wasn’t random vandalism. This was meant to be seen.
Understood.
I hear Natalie gasp and turn to see her hands fly to cover her mouth as she stares at this cryptic message someone has left for her. This wasn’t random. What isn’t she telling us? Me and Rick bought her story about the foster parents, but is she running from an abusive ex?
Rick swears, “What the fuck is that?”
I don’t answer because I can’t take my eyes off this mess.
Without thinking, my hand goes to my pocket, and I silently take several pictures with my cell phone.
When I’m finished, I stand there with a death grip on my cell phone.
My chest tightens knowing an intruder was here.
Someone walked through our apartment, right into her room, and left this ugly message behind to intimidate her.
Rick looks at me, with an expression of stone-cold fury. “I’m calling the cops.”
“Hold off,” I say quietly.
He glares. “Why should I wait? Someone broke into our place.”
“I know,” I say, jerking my chin towards his sister.”
Rick follows my gaze. His anger is quickly replaced by alarm. As we watch, Natalie’s hands come down from her mouth and her knees give way. Rick reaches her first and eases her back to sit on her bed.
She doesn’t look away from the wall. Her eyes look haunted. We might not know what this means but she clearly does. That mess on the wall, I could handle by scrubbing it away or painting over it. Threats to her, I couldn’t deal with so easily.
“They didn’t take anything, did they?” she asks quietly.
“No. They weren’t here looking for valuables.” After a brief pause, I ask, “Do you want to tell us what this is all about?”
Rick takes his hands off her shoulders and drops to one knee in front of her, forcing her to meet his gaze. “We can’t help you unless we understand what’s going on.”
Natalie swallows hard. “It’s my foster father. And the church. They want me to come back. They want me to take care of the children again.”
My eyes drift back to the wall, to the blood-red words.
Rick’s voice sharpens with disbelief. “Are you serious? Is this supposed to be a threat? Why would they threaten to kill the very thing they rely on? That doesn’t make any fucking sense.”
It clicks then, cold and ugly. “They’re not talking about death,” I say quietly. “That wall isn’t about killing anyone. It’s about punishment. Obedience. Suffering that’s justified.”
Rick drags both hands through his hair and starts pacing. “Shit! This isn’t just messed up—it’s fucked. Who uses God to blackmail someone into coming back for free childcare?”
Natalie folds her hands in front of her, her fingers twisting together like she’s holding herself upright by sheer will.
“They’re not threatening to hurt the kids in ways that leave marks,” she says.
“Not the kind you can see. But Bear’s right.
They believe suffering is righteous. That breaking a child is how you save them. ”
Rick stops pacing. “What the actual fuck.”
She finally looks up at us, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “They want me terrified for those kids. They want me to feel responsible. Like it’ll be my fault if I don’t go.”
My jaw tightens. “This is what you ran from?”
She hesitates. Just long enough to confirm it with a small nod.
“Yes, they once told me that I was the best helper they ever had.” Glancing away, she lowers her voice.
“They’ve been texting me pretty much continuously since I left.
Guilt tripping me, calling me selfish and that the kids are crying for me. ”
Rick lets out a harsh laugh that holds no humor. “You never told us any of that.”
“I didn’t want to bother you with my problems,” she says. “You’ve been nice to take me in.”
I crouch in front of her, lowering myself the same way Rick did earlier. “Okay. Slow down. Explain this to me like I’m five. I need to understand the whole dynamic.”
Her eyes slide past me, unfocused. “My foster parents were part of a family that believed in… using everything God gave them. Including children. They always had side hustles, things that looked charitable on the surface.”
She swallows. “They used to parade the younger kids out at church and community events. Not literally on a stage—but close enough. They’d quote scripture, talk about saving us, about sacrifice and obedience.
Sometimes they’d have the kids recite verses or write them out for cards and flyers.
People would buy them because it made them feel holy.
Like they were doing something good. Helping the poor little orphans… ”
My stomach twists.
“To everyone else it looked like kindness,” she continues. “Like this generous family taking in unwanted kids. But to them we were income. A check from the state and free labor.”
Rick’s jaw tightens.
“If we didn’t do what they wanted, the punishments came.
Never anything that would leave marks. They were too smart for that.
” Her voice goes flat. “It was isolation, extra chores, being locked in a bedroom for hours with nothing but a Bible. Making kids sit at the table and watch everyone else eat dessert. Telling them God was disappointed. Telling them they were ungrateful and broken. Easy to give back and replace with someone more deserving.”
Rick’s face goes red. “Assholes.”
“They were psychologically abusing them,” I say quietly.
She nods, and the silence that follows is thick and heavy.
I straighten slowly, guilt gnawing at my gut.
Rick slams his fist into the door. “We’re not letting this go.”
“No,” I agree. “We’re not.”
Natalie looks between us, her shoulders curling inward. “I don’t want to make trouble.” She rubs at her temple, exhausted. “I should just go back. I don’t know why I thought I could leave and finally have a life.”
“You’re not the one fuckin’ making trouble,” Rick growls, then backtracks immediately. “I’m sorry. I just don’t want to lose you.”
She nods, her expression turning grim. “I’m finally happy and having a life, I don’t want to give this up. But what can I do?”
“You’re not going back to them. We’re gonna work together to figure this out. Report them to CPS and do whatever it takes to get those kids pulled out of the home.”
“They’re careful. Anything that they’re accused of they could just say it’s the kids being oversensitive. I tried telling my teachers, but no one ever believed me. My foster parents were such a big part of the community.”
“We also shouldn’t stay here tonight,” Rick adds. “They know where we live. We can’t take a chance on them circling back around for another round of whatever in the fuck this was.”
“Did you tell them where you were living?” I ask Natalie.
She shakes her head.
“Shit,” Rick mutters.
“What?”
“The police check. I think that might have alerted them. I was at the Las Salinas PD earlier today getting that done so Natalie could start working with us.”
“They have connections?” I ask her.
“They’re well respected in the church. It’s possible,” she says.
“Rick’s right, we probably shouldn’t stay here tonight. We can stay at the clubhouse. It’s secure. Nobody in their right mind would roll up on the Savage Legion.”
She thinks it over for a minute before agreeing. “Okay. If that’s what the two of you really think is best, I’ll roll with it.”