Chapter 18
Overwhelmed with everything going on in the house, Elena stepped outside for a moment to think. The vets were already doing what they could to get the repairs started.
The attack had happened mere hours ago, and these incredible people who had arrived wounded and scarred were now reaching out to help the ones who’d helped them.
Her throat tightened. She really did live in an amazing community. So different from the one she’d left. So different from the people she’d escaped from years ago. Which reminded her of the moment she’d realized she was losing her sister.
Eleanor and Iris had just finished a training session and it hadn’t gone well. Iris walked slightly ahead of Eleanor, her posture rigid, shoulders square, the curve of her spine tense beneath the field jacket she now wore like armor. Her fists were clenched at her sides.
They’d just completed the “skills review” assigned to all members over the age of twelve. Eleanor’s fingers still trembled from trying to start a fire under timed pressure while two stone-faced adults marked notes on a clipboard.
But it wasn’t her performance that lingered in her mind—it was Iris’s. Iris had been called to demonstrate tactical obedience. “You,” the evaluator had said, pointing. “Take down the threat. No hesitation.”
The “threat” had been another teen, blindfolded and playing a role. Iris hesitated—only a fraction of a second—but it was enough to draw a sharp rebuke.
“Second thoughts get people killed,” the man barked.
Eleanor had seen the flicker in Iris’s eyes—a flash of shame, then fury, then something worse: surrender. Iris completed the exercise after that, her movements swift and practiced. No emotion. Just precision.
Later, walking back in the cold, Eleanor struggled to keep pace. “You didn’t have to do it like that,” she said, her voice soft. No rebuke, just a statement.
Silence.
“You weren’t supposed to actually throw him to the ground.”
Still no response.
“Iris?”
Her sister finally stopped, keeping her back to Eleanor for a few seconds. When she turned, her face was pale in the security light, lips pursed, eyes hollow. Blank. “I did what I had to do, El.”
“But that’s not you.” Eleanor’s voice cracked. “We promised each other, remember? We weren’t going to turn into one of them.”
“I can’t be that girl anymore,” Iris said, her emotionless voice spearing Eleanor more than her words. “They’re watching me now. Watching both of us. You saw what happened last week.”
A chill ran through Eleanor. Last week, a boy named Mason had been removed from their cabin group after arguing during weapons inspection. He hadn’t been seen since.
“I know,” Eleanor whispered. “But I just . . . I guess I’m just begging you, don’t let them turn you into someone else.”
For the briefest moment, something flickered across Iris’s face—grief, guilt, exhaustion.
Then she took a step back.
“Do you want to survive here, El?” she asked. “Because survival means blending in. It means not reacting when they shout, not crying when they strip you of everything familiar. It means doing the hard thing first so they won’t make it worse later.”
“I don’t care,” Eleanor said, blinking fast. “Not if it means losing you.”
Iris’s jaw clenched. Her hand twitched at her side like she wanted to reach out but didn’t. “You have to stop needing me to be who I was,” she said, and her voice broke even as she tried to steady it. “Because I can’t protect you if I don’t change.”
The words hit like a slap—not because they were cruel, but because they were so obviously true.
Eleanor stepped back, stung. “You’re choosing them.”
“No,” Iris whispered. “I’m choosing to survive. For you. Even if it means you hate me.”
And with that, she turned and walked the rest of the path alone, disappearing into the dark between floodlights.
Eleanor didn’t follow.
She stood in the cold, heart pounding, feeling something inside her quietly tear away—not completely, not yet, but enough.
The beginning of distance.
The first real fracture between them.
The moment Iris had begun to disappear—not all at once, but piece by piece.
Looking out over the ranch, Elena wiped the tears from her cheeks.
Realization hit her. Hard. She’d wanted to leave the compound because she hated it.
Hated the life. Hated everything about it—except for her family.
But she’d been afraid if she stayed, she’d come to hate them too.
And even then, as a teen, she must have realized if she left, maybe Iris—without the need to protect her baby sister—wouldn’t turn into one of them.
The self-aware moment had shocked her, and it had taken her days to process it.
And now she had to process it again, all the while wondering if she’d done the right thing.
She walked across the yard and headed to the barn, only to stop as a young girl approached on horseback and talked to the guard, who then searched her and the horse.
She didn’t recognize her, but the prepper logo-less hat sat on her head.
She was thin, with dark hair pulled back in a messy braid, maybe fourteen or fifteen years old, and she sat the horse with confidence.
The guard spotted Elena and waved her over. Elena headed his way. “What is it?”
“She said she’s looking for you.”
“Me?”
“If you’re Eleanor Higgins—or Elena Thompson.”
“That’s me.” Elena stepped forward, noting the clothes—practical layers that looked handmade. Prepper clothes. Her stomach tightened at the memory of how much she’d hated them.
Under the guard’s watchful gaze, the girl reached into her jacket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “This is from your father.”
Elena froze. Her father? “So he’s still living there?”
“Yeah. He said it’s important.” The girl extended her arm, the paper pinched between her fingers.
Elena took the note. “Who are you?”
“Just a messenger.” The girl glanced around nervously. “I need to go before they notice I’m gone. He told me he’d make sure my brother got medical care if I came and delivered this, but no one could know. I delivered it, now I have to hurry.”
“Wait—”
But the girl had already turned her horse, nudging it into a trot away from the gate.
Elena unfolded the paper, recognizing her father’s handwriting. The sight of it transported her back to childhood lessons at the kitchen table, his patient corrections on her math worksheets.
Eleanor—or should I say Elena,
I’m sorry I’ve waited so long to reach out, but I had my reasons not to.
I hope you can understand that one day. Things have changed here and not for the better.
Your mother and I were happy in the beginning, but once we moved here, she was adamant that LaRoche was building a cult, not a peaceful prepper community.
I’ve come to realize she was right—much too late.
All that aside, the time has come to let you know that your sister needs your help.
She wants out, but can’t leave on her own.
Maybe it’s not too late for me either. Meet us at the old gathering place at sunset today.
Come alone. Anyone else will spook the others, and we won’t get another chance.
This might be our only opportunity for reconciliation.
Dad
Elena read it twice more. Her father wanted to see her. Iris wanted out. They wanted out. After all these years of silence, of wondering if they even thought about her anymore, she had the chance to help them escape.
She folded the note and slipped it into her pocket, glancing at her phone. Still no signal, but at least it let her know the time. She had a few hours until sunset. Enough time to prepare and make the journey without rushing Harley.
Elena headed to the barn to grab her backpack, then hurried to her apartment, her thoughts a jumbled mess. She should tell someone where she was going. Sully would insist on coming with her or sending backup. But the note was clear—come alone or risk everything.
What if this was her only chance to help Iris? To see her father again?
Elena had never unpacked the backpack she’d been planning to take for her previous trip. Now she simply opened it and double-checked everything. What would Sully say if he knew what she was planning? Ha. That didn’t take much imagination.
He’d call it reckless. Possibly dangerous. And he’d be right.
But he didn’t understand what it meant to leave family behind. To wonder every day if they were okay, if they missed you, if they ever forgave you for leaving. She had to chance it.
She scribbled a quick note and left it on her kitchen counter.
If something went wrong, at least they’d know where to look.
Most likely, she’d be back before anyone realized she was gone.
She had time to kill before she had to leave, so she cleaned her home, then decided to head up the mountain, take it slow, and enjoy the ride.
Okay, she was just plain impatient for the time to pass so she could finally see her family again. She shouldered the backpack and headed out the door toward the barn.
“Elena?”
She turned to see the same guard walking toward her, a deputy next to him. “Yes?”
“Deputy Lane got a message from the sheriff.”
Elena set the pack on the ground and nodded. “Okay. What’s up?”
“Sheriff wants to know if you know a man named LaVoy Hawthorne.”
She stilled. “The name is familiar, but I can’t say I know anything about him really. Why?”
“He’s involved with the preppers and the mob. He’s hurt a lot of people and is calling a lot of the shots with the prepper group.”
“I see.”
He nodded to the pack. “Headed somewhere?”
“I’m headed to meet my dad.” But now she wondered if she should. If Hawthorne was behind the attempts on her life, then maybe she shouldn’t. But she wasn’t going into the compound, so she shouldn’t be anywhere near the man.
“All right, well, be careful.”
“That’s the plan.”
The two men left, and she grabbed her pack to head to the stable.