Chapter 22
As the driver navigates through my land, I can’t stop thinking about the conversation I had with Abaddon in Rome.
I went to meet him with a specific purpose: Elodie told me that the authorities don’t step foot on her father’s compound because they have no probable cause, and I need to understand that shit.
Just like with Elodie’s father, the compound was also in Texas. Apparently, in the beginning, they kept to themselves. But when a man named David Koresh joined the community and declared himself the new prophet, everything changed.
He demanded monogamy from his followers while he himself could have multiple wives. He started stockpiling firearms and encouraged his disciples to drink heavily.
Eventually, the authorities decided to intervene. The U.S. Department of Justice authorized a search warrant, but when law enforcement arrived, they were met with gunfire.
Four agents and several cult members were killed. The FBI took over the operation and set up a siege around the compound. Other tactical units were involved as well, including the Texas Rangers and the U.S. National Guard.
At first, David gave interviews to the press, but then the FBI cut off all communication between them and the outside world.
Koresh made a public statement saying that God had commanded him to resist the siege. Even so, he released nineteen children, who later revealed they’d been victims of physical and sexual abuse by the cult members.
As time went on, the situation grew worse, neither side willing to back down. In the end, fearing a mass suicide, the FBI released tear gas canisters inside the compound in an attempt to make it easier to storm the building and rescue the followers who’d been turned into hostages by their leader.
The standoff ended in a fire that killed seventy-six people, including twenty children and two pregnant women, as well as Koresh[8] himself.
The operation was a disaster. Apparently, Koresh’s right-hand man shot him at his request, then set the fire, and finally took his own life.
The case caused huge public backlash, with some siding with the authorities and others against them.
The fact is, there’s a lot more caution now when it comes to interfering with religious communities.
Many believe that if it hadn’t been for the FBI and law enforcement’s disorganized actions, those people could have been saved.
I gave Abaddon a mission: I ordered him to find something, anything, that would force the authorities to investigate the farm, as Elodie calls the community she used to belong to.
I don’t care how much it costs. I need to know I did everything I could for the girls trapped there, or I’ll never have peace.
I can’t forget Elodie’s words: My mother died suddenly.
I have no doubt that their father killed her.
The bastard took everything from his daughters: their freedom, their dreams, even their mother.
On my way back home, Abaddon sent me a preliminary report on the cult, confirming everything Elodie had told me.
I don’t know how he got the information, and I don’t care.
I ask for answers, and he delivers.
According to the report, boys born there are killed when they reach ten years old, right before puberty, so they won’t compete with the elders for the attention of the female children.
The women, once they turn thirty, just as Elodie had vaguely described, disappear.
The official story told by the cult is that they’re sent to another branch in a different state, but I believe the truth is they’re killed.
The depraved bastards have a fetish for girls barely entering adolescence.
Once the women are older and have given birth multiple times, they lose their “value.”
“Children of the Six Enlightened”—that’s what those sons of bitches call themselves.
Currently, the cult has sixty members, though at its peak, there were three hundred.
It’s insane to think that three hundred people allowed themselves to be controlled by half a dozen perverts who use religion to justify their heinous acts.
I step out of the car, and after being informed by my maid that Elodie is getting ready for dinner, I head to my room.
Half an hour later, already dressed, I leave my suite and run into her in the hallway.
For a few seconds, I can’t speak, struck silent by her beauty.
She’s stunning in a dress that I recognize by its color as one I had brought to her yesterday along with an entirely new wardrobe.
“I should probably say you didn’t need to go through the trouble of sending these clothes,” she says as she walks closer.
“But I can’t, because they’re just too beautiful.
This one”—she points to the dark pink, off-the-shoulder dress that perfectly contrasts with her golden skin—”I could’ve picked it out myself. ”
She takes another step closer, and heat coils in my groin, my cock straining against the confines of my boxer briefs.
The woman is alluring just by existing, but like this, looking determined to seduce, she’s irresistible.
She’s close enough now that I can feel the warm breath leaving her lips.
She’s not tall enough to meet my gaze, so she tilts her head back, exposing her neck. “I’m not going to play the ungrateful captive, Gianni. Instead, I’ll just say: thank you, jailer.”
I can’t hold back a laugh.
The little devil is unpredictable.
“Ah, debla[9]…”
“I like when you call me that.”
I wrap an arm around her waist. “Why?”
“For so long, I had to hide who I was, my roots. I’ve decided that no matter what happens in the future, I’ll never do that again. I don’t want to run anymore. I’m going to conquer the world by being myself.”
Her declaration stirs something deep inside me. A territorial feeling at the thought of her flaunting her beauty for someone else.
“You’re not allowed to think about the future yet.”
“You don’t control my thoughts, Italian.”
I lower my head, pressing my mouth to the curve between her shoulder and neck.
“Tell me that tomorrow morning, Elodie. You have my word that I’ll spend the entire night making sure that every memory you wake up with belongs to me.”
She looks at me like she wants to argue, but before she can speak, my phone rings, and she steps away.