Retired Army Colonel Brenda Hollins Races To Save Her Bruised Daughter From Abuse and Supernatural Captivity, Only To Uncover A $5 Million Blood Covenant That Reverses Everything She Believed
I stood my ground, the sterile air of the hospital room doing little to calm the fire rising within me. Gideon Crossland’s face was a mask of cold entitlement. Magistrate Judge Alistair Pryor, a man with too many rings and a slick suit, clutched a sheaf of papers.
“Colonel Hollins,” Judge Pryor said, his voice grating. “This warrant is ironclad. Your daughter, Maya Boudreaux, must return to the custody of her husband’s family.”
His eyes darted to Gideon, who gave a nearly imperceptible nod.
“Custody?” I shot back, my military posture stiffening instinctively. “My daughter is a U.S. citizen, not property. And she is clearly in distress.”
I gestured to Maya, huddled on the hospital bed, her eyes wide and bruised.
Pryor cleared his throat. “The Boudreaux family has presented evidence of erratic behavior, a danger to herself.”
“Erratic behavior?” I scoffed. “Or abuse? I have three decades of military service. I recognize a cover-up when I see one, Judge.”
My gaze hardened on him.
“This is not a courtroom, sir. My daughter requires medical attention and protection, not a forced return to what looks like a prison.”
Gideon stepped forward, his voice a low growl. “Colonel, you impede a legal proceeding at your own peril. There are federal obstruction charges—”
“Federal charges?” I interrupted him, my voice cutting through his. “You think I’m unfamiliar with federal law, Mr. Crossland? I’ve been enforcing it for thirty years.”
I met Pryor’s gaze directly.
“As a decorated officer of the U.S. Army, I demand due process. I demand a full, independent medical evaluation, and a temporary protective order.”
My voice filled the small room, leaving no room for argument.
“You will delay this warrant for at least twelve hours, Judge, allowing me to secure my daughter in a safe, neutral location.”
Pryor’s face flushed. He wasn’t used to being challenged like this.
He exchanged another glance with Gideon, who remained eerily silent, his expression unreadable.
The judge shifted, a bead of sweat tracing a path down his temple.
“Very well, Colonel,” Pryor finally conceded, his voice tight. “Twelve hours. But she must remain within county lines. And I will require her exact location.”
“Understood,” I said, a flicker of triumph in my chest. “She will be at a private residence down the Savannah riverbank. Address will be provided to the precinct captain, not to you or this… gentleman.”
I gave Gideon a pointed look.
The judge scribbled something on a pad, his movements jerky.
“Now, if you’ll excuse us,” I said, stepping between Maya and the door. “We have an early morning to prepare for.”
I watched them leave, the silence of their departure more unnerving than their threats.
Then, I turned to Maya.
“Pack light,” I told her, my voice firm. “We’re moving.”
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