Chapter 21
21
I watch with quiet unease as gear is loaded into the back of a sleek black SUV. Guns, tech, medical supplies—all packed with precision. A stark reminder of how dangerous this mission really is.
Whit tosses the last bag into the vehicle after Beckett double-checks it against their checklist, scanning for anything they might have missed. Meanwhile, as usual, Quinn is leaning against something—this time, the vehicle. He effortlessly twirls the key around his finger and whistles, always finding something to lean on, as if it’s second nature.
“Alright,” Beckett says, closing the back of the SUV with a firm click. “We’re loaded. Time to go.”
Whit pulls me into a gentle hug, his hand warm against my back. “We’ll check in as soon as we set up base,” he says. “Don’t stay up worrying.”
“Easier said than done,” I mutter, pulling back to meet his gaze before he presses a quick kiss on the top of my head.
Quinn grins as he grabs my hand and twirls me out of Whit’s arms. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he says, dipping me dramatically, making me laugh and lightening the mood. “I’ll bring you back a souvenir. Maybe a keychain. Or an elephant. You know, nothing major.”
“You’re ridiculous. An elephant or a keychain—those are my options?” I laugh, shaking my head at the absurdity.
“Hey, you never know,” he says, rubbing his chin as if deep in thought. “I’m sure they have some kind of cat-like creature I can smuggle back.”
“Quinn, shut up,” Beckett mutters, though he never seems to mean it. A faint smirk tugs at his lips as he steps forward. His eyes meet mine, always so perceptive, like he sees right through the anxiety I’m trying to hide. “We’ll be fine,” he says before pulling me into a quick embrace. “You’ll hear from us soon.”
“Be careful,” I manage, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek.
Beckett gives me a reassuring nod before glancing at his watch. “Gotta go if we’re going to catch the jet. Celest—get some sleep. Once we’re set up, it’ll be a long couple of days.”
“Try to switch to their time,” Whit adds with a small smile. “You’ll thank us later.”
Quinn leans closer, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. “Or don’t—and let Beckett lecture you about efficiency. It’s a real treat.”
“Quinn,” Beckett barks, looking up at the ceiling as if asking God for patience.
I manage a soft laugh, though the weight of what’s to come sits heavy on my mind. “Good luck,” I whisper, my arms wrapping around my middle as they pile into the SUV.
The engine roars to life, and I wave goodbye, my eyes fixed on them as they disappear down the long tunnel, into the outside world. The sound of the engine fades, leaving only silence as I stand there alone.
My fingers dig into my arms, grounding me against the creeping unease. They’re professionals. They’ve done this a hundred times. Yet the thought of them out there, walking into danger in a faraway place like the Congo, makes my stomach churn.
With a sigh, I turn back toward the hub, the hum of the equipment oddly comforting in their absence. Beckett was right—I should try to sleep. I glance at the monitors, tempted to stay up and wait for their call, but I think better of it. I need to be well-rested, so I’m on my A game for tomorrow.
I curl up on the oversized couch—it doesn’t feel right sleeping in their beds without them—and pull my favorite fleece blanket over myself, staring at the dark TV screen. It’s strange being here alone, and I doubt I’ll be able to sleep at all. I close my eyes, focus on my breathing, and drift into a fitful rest.
I’ve been sitting at my desk for over an hour, waiting for their call. My fingers fidget with a pen, tapping it against the console in a nervous staccato. When the comm unit finally crackles to life, I exhale deeply, finally able to breathe again.
“Celest, you there?” Whit’s calm voice comes through, easing my anxiety. Something about his voice immediately relaxes me.
“I’m here,” I answer, adjusting my headset. “Been waiting a while. I was afraid I’d miss the call or something.”
“Did you get any sleep?” Beckett asks.
“Some,” I admit, though it was anything but restful.
Quinn’s chuckle filters through. “Sure you did. Bet she’s been pacing the entire time. But more importantly—what are you wearing?”
“Quinn,” Beckett says, tone laced with warning.
“Alright, alright! Don’t act like you didn’t want to know,” Quinn relents, his grin practically audible. Wisely, he hurries on before Beckett can admonish him again. “How’s it look on your end?”
I shift my focus to the satellite feed, already keyed into their location. The map updates, three blinking dots marking each of their positions. “You’re right where you said you’d be,” I reply, zooming in on the thick jungle surrounding their temporary base camp. “The fortress is five miles northeast. Terrain looks rough—dense forest, steep inclines.”
“Perfect,” Beckett replies. “We’ll stay under the radar that way.”
“You ready to go for a hike?” I ask, fingers brushing over the keyboard as I double-check the route I mapped out for them earlier.
“Ready as we’ll ever be,” Whit answers. “We’ll keep you updated once we’re in position.”
As I monitor their progress, the hours crawl by. Their body cameras show a seemingly endless expanse of jungle—dark and impenetrable even with the night setting engaged. I listen for the rare crunch of leaves or snap of a twig beneath their boots as they trek silently through the dense underbrush.
It’s impressive.
I would sound like a herd of elephants.
Their voices come through sporadically over the comms, Beckett giving brief updates. “Two miles in. Terrain’s as expected—thick vegetation, minimal visibility.”
Quinn chimes in with his usual levity. “Minimal visibility? Speak for yourself, Beck. I see just fine—though I guess not everyone’s used to working with something this thick.”
“Quinn,” Beckett sighs. How those two polar opposites became best friends is a mystery.
Whit cuts in. “Focus, guys. We’re on a schedule.” Mystery solved. Without Whit, Beckett and Quinn might drive each other mad—well, Quinn definitely would.
By the time they reach the perimeter of the fortress, the sky begins to lighten with the barest hint of dawn. From what I see on the satellite feed, the compound looks exactly like our intel indicated. It’s massive—a central building surrounded by high walls, with smaller outbuildings and a heavily guarded gate. Security patrols move in predictable patterns; the place is heavily fortified.
“We’re in position,” Beckett says over the comms. “Security’s heavier than expected.”
“Yeah,” Quinn agrees, his voice quieter. “More guards on the south side than we planned for.”
Whit’s voice follows, steady and composed. “Let’s focus on getting in and out as efficiently as possible. Celest, keep tracking their patrols. Let us know if the increased numbers shifts anything.”
“Got it,” I reply, watching as their positions move on the map—tiny red dots weaving through the trees as they maneuver around the compound. I take the time to review the blueprints of the fortress they somehow got their hands on. I want to make sure there’s no obvious places where extra guards could be a potential issue—such as blind spots and rooms that would likely be heavily fortified.
“We’re good. Let’s head back,” Whit finally says, his voice carrying a note of relief. “Got what we came for.”
“You’re sure?” Beckett asks, his tone demanding perfection.
“Positive,” Whit replies. “We’ll go over everything at camp and make adjustments.”
“All right, let’s go,” Becket orders.
After what feels like an eternity—but couldn’t have been more than two hours—they begin their trek back to their temporary base. The early morning light is brighter now, cutting through the dense jungle. My shoulders ache with anxiety, and I can only imagine how much worse tonight will feel.
Back at the camp, they take a few hours to rest and regroup before diving into the intel. We analyze everything—new guard rotations, blind spots, weak points in the fortress’s defenses.
Occasionally, I ask one of them to clarify something or make a suggestion, but for the most part, the plan remains the same. By the time all minor adjustments are made, the sun sets again.
Beckett’s voice cuts through the comms. “We set out at midnight. That’ll give us a few minutes to get situated, then we strike at two a.m. Security’s thinnest then.”
We have a few hours before they need to break down camp, so we eat and rest. Well, they do, at least. My body hums with nerves, sharpening as the minutes tick by. Soon, they’re loading everything into the vehicle, and the second midnight hits, my mind snapping into razor-sharp focus.
“Celest, you ready to be our eyes?” Whit asks, his tone encouraging.
“Of course,” I reply, trying to sound sure of myself. “Just… be careful.”
“We always are,” Quinn says, though the mirth in his voice doesn’t inspire reassurance. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. This’ll be a walk in the park. I didn’t even bring the big explosives.”
“Quinn,” Beckett says, a faint edge of exasperation in his tone.
“Everything’s set,” Beckett says, focused and efficient as always. “We’ll be at the perimeter in forty minutes, then it’s another thirty on foot through the jungle to the fortress.”
“Don’t forget to enjoy the scenic route,” Quinn quips, his grin audible. “Nothing like a romantic midnight jungle drive to soothe the nerves.”
Whit chuckles, but his voice is all business. “All right, Quinn, keep the chatter down. Celest, you’ve got the feed?”
“Sure do,” I reply, keeping my eyes on the screen as I track their vehicle. “Everything looks clear so far.
They reach the perimeter as planned, parking the vehicle in a concealed location before proceeding on foot. I monitor the feed from their body cams—just shadows merging with the dense trees as they close in on the fortress. My pulse hammers, but I force myself to stay focused.
“Perimeter’s clear,” Beckett says. “Moving to the east side.”
The satellite feed shows them approach the fortress’s weakest point—a blind spot in the cameras they use to their advantage when the guards change shifts. They slip through the fence without a sound, disappearing into the shadows of the compound.
“We’re in,” Whit reports. “No sign of movement.”
“Celest, you should be able to tap into their cameras now,” Quinn says, just as the multiple feeds filter onto my screens.
“Got it. Their cameras should be looping while I maintain live footage,” I say, surprised by how confident my voice sounds.
“Stick to the plan. Quinn, take point,” Beckett orders.
They move deeper into the fortress, precise and silent. Everything is going perfectly—until something catches my eye.
I lean in closer to the monitor, my heart skipping a beat. “Wait,” I say, my voice sharper than I intended. “There’s movement near the north corridor. Several guards just changed positions, and a group is heading right for you.”
“Copy that,” Beckett replies instantly. “Adjust course.”
I quickly map a new route, and they follow it without hesitation, seamlessly adapting to avoid detection. My heart pounds with adrenaline as I track their progress on the screen, watching them weave through the fortress like ghosts in the dark.
They near the target’s location—a lavish bedroom on the top floor, guarded by four men: two stationed at the door, and one at either end of the hall. The comms are silent, except for the faint sounds of movement as they prepare to strike. Beckett and Whit wait at one end of the hall, while Quinn takes an alternate route, positioning himself at the other.
“Guards are half asleep,” I whisper, my eyes glued to the feed. “You’re good to go.” A few moments later, Quinn and Beckett strike, taking out the two solo guards with swift, silent precision.
Without hesitation, Beckett and Whit move in on the last two. Their takedown is surgical—fast and so quiet, the men don’t have time to react.
Quinn’s voice comes through next, hushed and steady. “Moving in.”
The door creaks open, and they slip inside. The target is exactly where we thought he’d be—sound asleep in a massive bed, oblivious to the danger creeping toward him. I hold my breath as Quinn moves to the bedside, his knife flashing in the faint light.
“It’s done,” Quinn murmurs, voice thick with something between amusement and disappointment. “I was hoping for more… entertainment. He didn’t even scream. What a waste.”
I can practically hear Beckett roll his eyes as I try to hold back laughter. It’s probably not an appropriate response, but I’ve given up on trying to be appropriate.
They slip out as smoothly as they came, moving with the same swift precision—every step silent. Two more guards cross their path, and they dispatch them quickly and quietly. The fortress remains unaware of the intrusion as I keep my eyes locked on the satellite feed, making sure it stays that way.
Within minutes, they’re back at the blind spot, but this time, fresh guards stand watch, facing outward as they scan the perimeter. They don’t sense the danger creeping up behind them until it’s too late. Taken out in silence, they drop, and the team slips through the gap they used to enter. Relief washes over me, followed by exhaustion, but I don’t let it take hold.
Not yet.
“We’re out,” Whit says, his voice a little lighter now that the hard part’s over. “Heading back now—home stretch.”
The hike to their vehicle is uneventful, though I hear the exhaustion in their voices as they check in periodically. When they arrive, they quickly remove their excess gear and pack it away.
Quinn’s laugh cuts through the tension—light and easy as he starts the ignition. “Told you it’d be a walk in the park.”
Whit sighs, but there’s a smile in his voice. “Just get us home, and try not to take any buildings out this time.”
“It was one time!” Quinn bemoans as the rest of us laugh.
By the time they’re on their way to the jet, dawn begins to creep over the horizon.
I track their progress to the airstrip through the satellite, and it’s not until the jet is airborne, on its way home, that I see it—the fortress explodes with activity. Guards swarm the compound, vehicles moving in and out at a frantic pace. I guess they found Richter and the dead guards. I hope they’re panicking. Anyone working for—well, worked for—that evil man can’t be a good person.
I lean back in my chair, the tension ebbing away as the jet soars higher. They did it. They’re safe and on their way home.
I try to get some sleep, but it quickly becomes obvious that won’t happen until they’re home. I make myself some tea and return to my computer, staring at the Google search bar. I’ve been going back and forth on whether this is a good idea. Ultimately, my curiosity wins, and I type Celestina Abernathy into the search.
The first thing I see is a Magnolia Hallow article. My breath hitches at the still image they used as the cover—it’s Josiah. I click on the article but don’t bother reading it, choosing instead to go straight to the video.
I stare at the screen, unable to look away as Josiah’s face fills the frame. His familiar features—chiseled, charismatic, and deceptively kind—send a slow wave of dread curling through me.
He’s a walking contradiction. How someone can look that benevolent and be that evil is beyond me.
He stands at a podium, flanked by my father—unsurprising—and another of his disciples. Behind him, the Covenant’s symbol looms large on a pristine banner. The sight of it sets my nerves on edge, but it’s his voice—calm, measured, and manipulative—that makes my skin crawl.
“I come before you today with a heavy heart,” Josiah begins, his tone thick with feigned sorrow. “It has been weeks since my beloved Celestina disappeared, leaving a void not only in my life but in the lives of all who know and love her.”
I scoff at “beloved Celestina.” Hearing my name from his mouth threatens to revive old memories better left forgotten. I’ll give him credit though—he knows how to put on a show. The way he hides his rage and dons the persona of a grieving fiancé is truly impressive.
Josiah pauses, bowing his head slightly—a perfect mime of a devastated fiancé overcome with emotion. When he looks back at the camera, his blue eyes glisten with unshed tears. The ridiculousness of his charade makes me want to laugh and vomit at the same time.
“Her car was found abandoned in rural Vermont,” he says, his voice catching just enough to sell the performance, like the fraud he is. “And while we remain hopeful, we must face the possibility that she may be in danger.”
I suck in a breath. How stupid am I? I should’ve had the guys take care of my car weeks ago. Because of my mistake, he knows my general location, and I hate how terrified it makes me.
“She was unwell in the days leading up to her disappearance,” he continues, gripping the podium as if it’s all that keeps him standing. “I encouraged her to seek help, to talk to someone, to understand that there is no shame in addressing her struggles. But Celestina… she’s always been so strong-willed, so independent.”
My nails bite into my palms as I clench my fists in anger. I shouldn’t be surprised, this is standard Josiah behavior. By twisting the truth, he’s turned me into a fragile, broken thing and weaponized his concern so no one will question him in the future.
Josiah lowers his voice, leaning slightly toward the microphone. His performance would warrant a reward if it weren’t so malicious. “Every night, I lie in bed terrified that she might do something rash. That she might,” he pauses, taking a shuddering breath, “take her own life.”
My breath catches, momentarily stuck in my throat. He’s painting me as unstable and vulnerable while making himself the martyr. It’s a calculated move, and it’ll work if they want to make me disappear—just like he always does. He manipulates the picture until it shows what he wants you to see.
“Please,” he says, his eyes locking directly with the camera as if he’s speaking straight to me. “Join me in praying for Celestina’s safe return.”
I shake my head, fury bubbling beneath the fear. The audacity to use prayer—something good in nature—and twist it into a weapon. I shouldn’t be surprised, he’s been doing it for years to the entire covenant.
Then he says the words that chill me to my core, as his gaze sharpens and his expression becomes a perfect mask of tenderness.
“I will find you, Celestina.”
My hands shake as I exit out of the screen.
It’s time.
I have to tell them about my past—about Josiah. I’ve delayed long enough.
I swear to myself I’ll tell them everything when they get home.
Josiah’s words echo in my mind, and I try not to think about what will happen if he finds me—the violent warning he left.
No matter how far I run, Josiah is never far enough away.