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
The Lowcountry pine forest was a labyrinth of twisted trunks and hanging moss, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and pine needles. I kept Maya close, my hand gripping her arm, the journal tucked securely inside my coat. The further we walked from the safehouse, the less intense the rhythmic pulsing became, but the oppressive chill remained.
I knew a place. An abandoned gothic chapel, deep in these woods. My granddaddy used to talk about it, a relic from forgotten times, rumored to have been a sanctuary for runaways. If anything could shield us, it might be that old ground.
We walked for what felt like hours, the moon a sliver above the canopy. Maya stumbled often, her tears having long since dried, replaced by a sullen silence. I kept my senses alert, scanning the darkness, listening to the rustle of leaves and the distant calls of night birds.
Suddenly, a figure emerged from the dense shadows of a cluster of palmettos. She was a woman, slender and severe, her dark coat blending almost perfectly with the night.
I froze, pulling Maya behind me. My hand instinctively went to the imaginary holster at my hip—a reflex from years of service, even without a weapon.
“Colonel Hollins?” the woman’s voice was crisp, unexpected in the stillness. “Evelyn Moreau.”
Her eyes, even in the dim light, held a sharp, intelligent glint.
“Gideon Crossland’s name still sticks in my mouth,” she continued, a bitter edge to her tone. “I’m his ex-partner. His *betrayed* ex-partner.”
She held out a small, leather-bound book, not unlike Maya’s journal, but this one looked like a ledger.
“You need to see this,” Evelyn said, pushing it into my hand. “It’s a record of Gideon’s illicit dealings. Especially with Magistrate Pryor.”
My fingers brushed against the cool leather. I opened it, squinting in the moonlight. The pages were filled with neat columns of dates and figures. My eyes darted to a specific entry, highlighted with a small, red mark.
*Pryor, A. Magistrate – 50,000 USD – Boudreaux Estate Acquisition. Account: M. Hollins-Boudreaux.*
My blood ran cold. Fifty thousand dollars. And it came from Maya’s own bank account.
I looked from the ledger to Evelyn, then to Maya, who stood frozen, her face slack with a mixture of fear and something I couldn’t quite decipher.
“Fifty thousand dollars?” I repeated, my voice barely a whisper. “From Maya’s account? To bribe Judge Pryor?”
Evelyn nodded, her expression grim.
“Gideon uses money, influence, and the darker arts to get what he wants. Pryor is just another pawn. But the source of the funds… that’s the real twist, isn’t it?”
She watched Maya with an intense, knowing gaze.
The revelation hit me like a physical blow. Maya wasn’t just a victim. This was a game, and she was playing it.
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