👉 Previous Choice: You listened to Deputy Wright’s report, revealing the ritual sigils and dead phone line.
Silas’s gaze hardened, the benevolent facade finally crumbling. He took another step towards me, his hand reaching for the comms console.
“This is a crisis of faith, Evelyn,” he growled, his voice low and menacing. “You are clearly unwell. I will have you committed to the Covenant’s private asylum. For your own good. For the purity of your soul.”
My breath caught in my throat. The cult’s asylum was a terrifying, whispered threat, a place where dissenting minds were “realigned.” I gripped the forged document tighter, my knuckles white.
Just then, the outer door of the dispatch center creaked open. A vehicle, an older model pick-up truck, pulled up outside, its engine still idling. An unexpected figure stepped through the entrance.
It was Martha Sallow, Silas’s ex-wife, her face etched with years of regret. She had fled the Covenant decades ago, leaving behind a past shrouded in secrecy. Her eyes, usually downcast, now blazed with a fierce, quiet resolve.
“She speaks the truth, Silas,” Martha said, her voice shaking but firm. She held a tattered, old Bible in her hands, her fingers tracing the worn leather. “The land deed. It was forged.”
Silas recoiled, his face contorting in a snarl. “Martha! You abandoned the Lord’s work. You have no authority here!”
“I saw what you did to Gabriel,” Martha retorted, her gaze unwavering. “He was a good man. Too good for your twisted rituals.” She turned to me, her eyes pleading. “Bartholomew Gidley, the notary. He’s been rubber-stamping your land seizures for years. He helped you take Gabriel’s property before you could inherit it.”
My mind reeled. Martha’s words, coupled with the document in my hand and Caleb’s report, painted a terrifying picture. This wasn’t just a home invasion; it was a deep-seated conspiracy, rooted in the very fabric of Sanctum County.
“They needed Gabriel’s estate,” Martha continued, tears welling in her eyes. “For their grand plan, the ‘Sacred Debt’ they speak of. A million dollars for some ancient, unholy pact.”
She stepped forward, reaching into the pocket of her worn coat. Her hand emerged with a small, intricately carved iron key. It was old, heavy, and strangely cold to the touch.
“Gabriel told me,” she whispered, pressing the key into my hand. “Before they… before he died. This is for the Sanctum’s underground sanctuary. Beneath the original chapel.” She looked back at Silas, her face filled with a sorrowful defiance. “That’s where he truly died, Evelyn. Not an accident. Not a fall.”
Silas lunged, his hand snatching at Martha, his face purple with rage. But she sidestepped him, her eyes fixed on mine.
“Go,” she urged, her voice low and urgent. “Find the truth. Finish what Gabriel started.”
➡️ Read CHAPTER 8 to continue the story.
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