My Cult-Leader Brother Called Me A Lowly Flu-Shot Nurse At Our Council Luncheon — Then A Two-Star General Saluted Me As Colonel
Elijah Kincaid didn’t hesitate. Local sheriff’s deputies, even the FBI, wouldn’t understand the intricate web of deceit woven around the Sanctum. They couldn’t move fast enough, or with enough finality, to protect the innocent members of the enclave from the inevitable retaliation of Silas Drake’s syndicate.
He copied all of Carver’s digital ledgers—the true, hidden accounts—onto an encrypted flash drive. He triple-checked the data, ensuring its integrity. This wasn’t just evidence; it was a death sentence for Caleb.
Instead of calling 911, Elijah went to a secure, burner phone he kept for emergencies. He dialed a number he had committed to memory years ago, a number that connected directly to Silas Drake’s enforcement team in Phoenix.
The call connected on the first ring. A gravelly voice answered.
“State your business,” the voice said, devoid of inflection.
“This is Elijah Kincaid,” he stated, his voice calm and precise. “Regarding Phoenix Holdings LLC and the Sanctum of the New Dawn.”
There was a beat of silence on the other end, then a rustle. “Go on.”
“Caleb Finch is preparing to liquidate syndicate assets,” Elijah reported, his words clipped and factual. “He has forged Elder Thomas Finch’s signature to siphon eight point seven million dollars from your investment funds.”
He continued, laying out the precise details. “He has also attempted to sell classified intellectual property—not belonging to him—on an offshore portal for one point five million dollars, intending to route it to his private account. He plans to drain the enclave’s remaining three million dollar physical vault and flee to South America within the next six hours.”
He paused, letting the implications sink in. “I have the uncorrupted ledgers and a full confession from his auditor, Marcus Carver. Proof of his treason.”
The voice on the other end remained emotionless. “Understood. Location?”
“The Sanctum. Main assembly hall. He is currently attempting to hold an emergency Elder Council meeting to further consolidate his control and hide his tracks.” Elijah provided the exact coordinates.
“Wait for our arrival,” the voice commanded. The line clicked dead.
Elijah stared at the burner phone, then slid it into his pocket. He had just delivered his brother’s fate into the hands of a power far more ruthless than any government agency. The weight of his decision pressed down on him, but he felt no regret. Only a grim resolve. He had chosen to protect the many, even if it meant sacrificing one.
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