Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was just after four in the afternoon when Rachel glanced at the clock on her dash as she drove her cruiser through the winding Whitetail Mountains that would take her to the St. Francis Veterans Center. 

And she could probably think of about a dozen other things she'd rather be doing. 

The tips of her fingers tapped anxiously against the steering wheel as the top of the mansion finally came into view. It was her first time seeing the large, beige structure, but the dozen or so peggies patrolling the grounds, loaded rifles slung over their shoulders, and the overall rundown appearance of the building told her she was in exactly the right place. Exactly where she didn't want to be. 

It was beyond her why the sheriff had told her to come all the way out here in the first place. Especially after what happened only a few days prior. 

Rachel had been living and working in Hope County for only a week when she had her first, and thankfully only, a run-in with John Seed. The youngest of the Seed brothers and a dedicated lawyer to the entire clan. 

A deep frown pulled at her lips as she remebered the way he so casually strolled into the station wearing what she was sure was the finest suit in a fifty-mile radius, a smug expression on display for everyone to see as he all but demanded a meeting with the sheriff about the two peggies she and Staci caught and arrested for trying to tamper with a radio tower. 

Fifteen minutes.

That's how long it was from the time he walked in til the sheriff told her to release the peggies from their holding cell. It wouldn't have been so bad if it weren't for the smug expression John wore the entire time as if everything was playing out exactly as he wanted it to. 

Rachel had never met a lawyer she liked, and she was sure John Seed was among, if not the worst. The burning desire to wipe that infuriating smirk right off his face remained long after their encounter. Even now, as she drove up the driveway of the Veteran's Center, she felt it. 

Not that she could do anything about it. She needed this job and Hope County was the only county in over a hundred miles that was hiring for deputies. That, and she didn't go through the hassle of uprooting her life and moving an entire state over just to lose it all for the likes of John Seed. 

Not that it would stop her from hating the man. 

A handful of peggies shot her disdainful looks as she drove up to the front of the mansion and parked the cruiser in front of the slate gray steps that led inside the building. 

Two peggies stood guard on either side of the doors and it took everything in her not to react to the one glaring daggers through her windshield. It seemed he had no difficulty remembering her. Of course, she imagined it would be hard to forget the face of the person throwing you into a cell. 

He was quick to make himself scarce, opening the door just enough to slip inside and disappear from sight. No doubt hurrying inside to find Jacob and inform him of the impending visit. 

Leaving her hat on the passenger seat, she stepped out of the cruiser and pushed her sunglasses up til they sat next to a rather messy bun. She'd only made it two steps in the direction of the mansion before the now lone peggie standing guard called out to her. A middle-aged man wearing a tattered denim jacket and jeans. 

"Jacob's around back," he said, and she paused, raising her eyebrows and waiting for him to elaborate. Then he turned his head from her, and she frowned when she realized that was the extent of the oh-so-helpful conversation. 

She'd never met Jacob Seed before, but if her run-in with John had been anything to go by, she knew this encounter would be just as miserable as the last one. Worse than, probably, since this was the brother with an actual record.

Wanting nothing more than for it to be over as soon as possible, she squared her shoulders and made her way around the building, passing a couple of large, suspicious-looking storage containers and a handful of peggies laying the framework for what looked to be a small shed. 

It was an impressive sight, she had to admit. Acquiring the land was one thing, but keeping everyone working together was a feat. She could do without the religious aspect of it though. 

The afternoon sun was shining brightly in a cloudless sky, bringing an unseasoned warmth to what would naturally be a cold spring day, and when the back of the mansion finally came into view, she faltered a step, brow-raising high as she took in the sight of the large, steel cages.

Two rows of them lined the center of the backyard, about eight of them in total. Cages that looked to have more than enough room to accommodate a medium-sized animal. The type of animal that could make a significant amount of noise.

Standing at the head of the rows were two men speaking in hushed tones with the very same peggie she'd seen slip into the mansion when she arrived. She suppressed a sigh and made her way over, eying the other two men as she did. One of them was dressed in a similar getup to the one John had worn the day he came to the station. His suit was pressed and his shoes shone with fresh polish. The length of his jaw sported a neatly trimmed beard and the rest of his hair was pulled back into a well-kept, brown bun. He was obviously one of the brothers. 

The other man, however, couldn't have been a further contrast if he tried. He wore a deep green camo jacket that was covered in an array of mystery stains, jeans, and boots. His auburn hair sported an undercut, with the top being perhaps a little too long and when the three of them finally took notice of her approach, he was the man she locked eyes with. 

Even from where she stood, some twenty paces away, she could see the surprised look in his light blue eyes as he stared at her. Her brow came together as she took in the strange look he was giving her. 

He took a single step toward her, only to be halted by the other man with a hand on his shoulder before stepping closer and muttering words that were far too quiet for her to hear. But whatever was said, it must have caught the man's interest because an expression of disbelief crossed his face. So much so that he looked back at the other man, only to be met with an affirmative nod. 

She would have found it completely bizarre if no one had warned her beforehand about the craziness that seemed to run in the Seed family. 

Doing her best to ignore the strangeness of it all and chalking their behavior up to far too much time spent in the seclusion of the mountains, she crossed the distance between them with a purpose until she was standing in front of the three men. She wasn't incredibly short, standing at five-foot-six, but she still had to tilt her head back rather uncomfortably to maintain eye contact.  

"I'm looking for Jacob Seed," she said immediately, looking between the two men until the better-dressed one of the two gave a friendly pat to the other one's shoulder. 

"I'll leave you to it then. But remember brother, patience. The time for harvest is nearly upon us."  

With that, he steered the disgruntled peggie still glaring at her back in the direction of the mansion, leaving her alone with the auburn-haired man. 

He watched them leave before turning his attention onto her, the corner of his lips twisted upward into a friendly smile. It was then that she noticed the slight scars scattered across his cheek. They were faint, only noticeable if you were standing as close as she now was. Though they offered no disfavors for his looks. 

She frowned at the turn of her thoughts. It didn't matter what the man looked like. He was a criminal. No amount of attractiveness could make up for that. 

"Afternoon officer," he drawled in a too-friendly tone that had her pursing her lips, already suspicious of everything she'd bore witness to. "to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" 

"The department's received a noise complaint, Mr. Seed." 

He snorted, undeterred by the seriousness of her tone, and held up a hand, "Jacob is fine." 

She crossed her arms, unamused. "Fine. Are you aware that you've got neighbors, Jacob?"  

His smile widened at that, revealing a set of mostly straight, white teeth. It was the kind of smile you'd expect to see on an overweight housecat that's already found its next meal. 

"Oh, I'm aware. Nosy bastards won't stay off my property." 

"If you'd like to file a complaint, you're welcome to follow me back to the station," she said, her gaze wandering back to the rows of cages. "Until then, you mind telling me what these are for?" 

He followed her gaze, his jaw clenching with a tightness that told her he wouldn't be telling her anything.   

"Thought you said this was about a noise complaint?" 

"I'm following up. Your neighbors seem to think you've been keeping wolves. Hope county does not permit-" 

"Now hold on," he cut her off, his tone sharp and brimming with irritation. "Those cages," he said, jabbing an index finger toward the steel structures, "are for the coyotes that have been tearin' up my animals. Unless the laws have suddenly changed, and getting rid of them is no longer the responsibility of the landowner?" 

Well, he had her there. Even so, "Why didn't you just say that to begin with?" 

A smug grin tugged at the corner of his lips. "My apologies officer. I wasn't expecting to be interrogated. But you've made your point and I think I've made mine." 

He crossed his arms as though the matter was settled. Her mouth opened, then closed. She didn't buy it. The man was hiding something, that much was obvious. What it was, she didn't know. But somehow she knew that she'd figure it out eventually.  And whatever hole he was digging for himself, she knew his brother would be right there to dig him out of it. 

"Fine. Just try to keep the noise to a minimum, alright? I don't want to get called back out here." 

A wide smile crossed his face. "What, sick of us already, officer?" he asked, amusement clear in his light blue eyes. "That didn't take long." 

Why did he have to look at her like that? She turned her gaze back to the cages. 

"If I have to come back, I'll have to issue a citation."

He snorted a laugh. "You know John is just gonna get that thrown out."

Her lips parted, and she stared at him. The corner of his lip turned upward. God, he was smug. 

"Just keep it down," she said, turning away. 

She made it all of five paces when Jacob appeared at her side. Glancing up, she caught his gaze. 

"Listen, I think we might have gotten off on the wrong foot."

Much to her displeasure, a small, cynical smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "You think so?"

"You're new around here," he pointed out. 

"Couple weeks now, but yeah." 

"You liking it so far?"

Her head almost spun at the sudden shift of conversation. "The town or the job?"

He shrugged beside her, "Both?" 

They had almost reached her cruiser when she responded. "They're fine, I suppose." 

She retrieved her sunglasses from the top of her hair and slid into the driver's seat of her cruiser. Jacob hadn't moved, and when she realized he had no intentions of doing so, she rolled her window down. 

"Something else you needed, Jacob?"

He leaned a hand against the roof of her car, the action causing a pair of dog tags to swing forward. She wondered if they were his. A military history would certainly explain the obvious differences between him and his brothers. 

Still smiling, he responded, "Yeah, what are you doing Friday night?"

"What are you..." she trailed off, her mind playing catch up to the latest shift in their conversation. "Do you ask cops for dates often, Jacob?"

"Only the pretty ones," he said, lips stretching into a wide grin. "Only you." 

To her absolute horror, she felt the skin of her cheeks darken into a rosy shade of heat. 

"Have a good afternoon, Mr. Seed." 

With that said, she slid her sunglasses into place and pulled the shift knob in reverse. 

Chapter Text

You've got to be kidding me.

Rachel sighed at the sight of her tire. Flat, wrapped in barbed wire, and half submerged in mud. It was a wonder to her how her other tires made it over the wire unscathed. And where had it even come from? 

A drenching rain pelted the top of her head, causing stray tendrils of her brown hair to stick to her face and neck. A flare of annoyance welled inside her, and she kicked the tire, the steel toe of her boot connecting with the rim as a crack of thunder roared overhead. 

She startled at the lightning that flashed overhead, illuminating the misty forest lining each side of the dirt road around her. 

"Jesus..." she muttered, wondering what on earth she'd done to deserve this. She reached for the radio on her hip.

"Staci?..."

Static.

"Staci, come in. You out there?"

Still nothing.

"Dispatch?...Anyone?..." she said, frowning at the static silence flaring on the other end. With a heavy sigh, she clipped her walkie back to her belt and went to the trunk. Pulling the handle, the lid popped, and she reached inside, retrieving the large metal contraption that was the jack. 

Seven years of her life wasted. All for her to uproot everything and now here she was, in the most backward little county she could've picked, her wheel torn to hell while she attempted to fix it while being pelted by the first real downpour of the season. 

If that wasn't in keeping with the lot of her life, she didn't know what was. 

Sliding it under the car was the easy part. Pumping the lever was a lot more difficult with thunder and lightning layered above her head. She pushed the lever up and down as quickly as she could, raising the cruiser inch by painful inch until she was panting, drenched in rain and sweat and finally, it was raised enough to access the tire. 

Going back to the trunk, she pulled the spare tire out and leaned it against the rear bumper. Grabbing the tire iron, she went back to the wheel wrapped in barbed wire. Hooking the tire iron onto the first bolt, she turned it, rotating it counterclockwise to loosen it. 

It popped off and promptly fell into the muddy water at her feet. With a sigh, she moved it out of the puddle, the action drenching her hands in a thin layer of brown water and repeated the process with the next few bolts until all of them were lying by her feet. Then she laid the tire iron down by her feet, grabbed the tire, being careful of the barbed wire coiled tightly around it, and pulled. 

It didn't budge. 

She tried again, wiggling and pulling the tire with everything she had.

Nothing. 

She tried again, and again. Twisting and pulling the tire until she was panting from exertion. All the while the rain continued to fall. Her clothes, hair, and boots were soaked. A soft squeaking could be heard each time she adjusted her step. 

It was all for naught, and she was ready to give up and spend the night in her cruiser when a pair of lights illuminated the dirt road behind her. She looked back, tensing at the sight of a peggie truck slowing down as it approached her. 

Oh, no.

The truck pulled up right beside her, sandwiching her between the two vehicles and she tried her best to squint through the rain and window tint to see the driver. 

The door opened and closed, and a sense of relief flooded her when she saw Jacob Seed round the front of his truck instead of a peggie. She didn't much like the thought of being stranded and running into one of the men she previously arrested. 

"Everything alright?" 

"Yeah," she said, still breathless and gesturing to the tire leaning against the back of her car. "Just some tire trouble is all." 

"Get in the truck," he said, cocking his head towards his truck that was still running. 

Her brow came together, and she stared at him. "What?"

"You ever changed a tire before, officer?" 

She stared at him. "It's pretty straightforward, Jacob. I think I can handle it." 

"Look," he said, looking at her with a softness in his eyes that perplexed her. "You don't even have a coat. You won't be much use to the fine people of Hope County if you catch hypothermia." 

A shiver passed over her as if summoned to prove his point. 

He took the tire iron out of her hands. "Get in the truck. Heat's on."

Oh, but that sounded so nice, and not being pelted by the cold spring rain sounded even better. She frowned, relenting. "Fine." 

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He looked as though he wanted to say something, but he didn't, only watched her take the few steps to his truck and slide onto the large, bench seat. And oh god, it was warm. The heat was on full blast, and Rachel immediately held her fingers up to the vent, her knuckles aching from the cold that had seeped into them. 

Inside the cabin, it was dirty. But only in the way you'd expect from a blue-collar worker. A thin layer of dirt covered the steering wheel, and a few mystery stains peppered the seat. A rifle was racked behind her head, loaded, safety on. But despite the dirt, the cabin smelled good. The deep musk of a man filled the space. 

She looked over to see Jacob's blurry form through the window's glass. His legs were spread wide, the bottom of his boots disappearing into the mud as he pulled on the wheel, the action shaking her entire cruiser with the force of it. A few good pulls and the wheel was off, the car rocking from the force of the release. 

A wave of gratitude washed over her. As much as she hated to admit it, there was no way she could've done it herself. 

Jacob Seed had a reputation, and a record to match, or so she'd heard. But here he was, being pelted by rain and fixing her tire while she sat in the warmth of his truck. He didn't even hesitate. It didn't make sense. 

The sound of her trunk closing drew her attention, and she looked over to see her spare tire in place, and Jacob heading around the back of his truck. He opened the door, and slid onto the seat, fully drenched from the downpour. He wiped his face on his jacket sleeve, and raked a hand through the top of his hair, flicking rainwater onto the window behind him. 

And damn her if he didn't look good doing it. 

"All done," he said with a grin. 

She reached for the handle when he spoke again.

"You don't have to go just yet. At least warm up first."

"We're in the middle of the road, Jacob," she said.

"I can fix that," he said, grabbing the shift knob and putting it in first gear. He steered the truck slow and steady until his truck was pulled to the side of the road in front of her cruiser. 

It was then her mind decided to realize that neither of them was wearing a seat belt. Five minutes with Jacob seed and he'd already turned her into a criminal. 

"So," he said, putting the truck in park and leaning back into his seat. "What brings you to Hope County?"

She stared at him, taking in the loaded question she had no desire to answer.  

She frowned.

"Just needed a change, I suppose," she said, not wanting to delve into her desperate need to put as much distance as she could between her and the first twenty-five years of her life.

It was then her gaze flickered to the steering wheel where a bright red liquid was spreading beneath his hand, invading the lines of his flesh.

"You're bleeding."

Jacob pulled his hand away and looked at the gash running the length of his palm as though he was seeing it for the first time. "Huh."

He pulled the flesh of his hand apart, exposing several layers of the inside of his land. She almost gagged. 

"You didn't feel that?" she asked, looking around his cabin for something to stem the bleeding. She had a safety kit in her cruiser. 

"Guess not," Jacob said, reaching under his seat and pulling out what very much looked like an old-fashioned ammo box. The dark metal was rusted all over, but inside was an array of fresh and sterile-looking bandages and creams. He began sifting through them with his blood and dirt-covered hands. 

"Stop," she said, sliding closer on the bench and reaching for him. His wrist was warm beneath her cold fingers, and she tried very hard not to think about the strange feeling welling inside her when she touched him. 

Sifting through the kit between them, she found iodine and gauze and proceeded to clean his wound as best she could. Jacob watched her diligently, and she tried her best to ignore the feeling of his gaze upon her. Yet, each time she raised her eyes to check, he was fixing her with a strange discerning look, like he was trying to figure her out. 

"You're pretty good at this," he said eventually. The low rasp of his voice sounded almost too loud in the rain-stricken cabin. 

And it took every ounce in her to not dwell on the feeling of sadness his words inflicted. 

When the wound was as clean as it could be without proper washing, she sifted through the box, finding more gauze and tape. Placing a sterile pad over his palm, she began wrapping the gauze around his hand. 

"I took care of my mother. She passed away a few months ago, but she was ill for a long time."

Seven years. She frowned.

And it seemed that no amount of distance could take the pain away. 

"I'm sorry." 

She looked up, into those light blue eyes that seemed to look through her. 

"It's alright," she said, turning her gaze back on the task of taping the gauze in place. 

"Is it?" 

"Sure. I mean, I used to wonder why me, you know. But..." she shrugged her shoulders. "Sometimes bad things just happen, and you can't do anything about it. Just have to deal with it." 

She ripped the tape, securing the end of it in place on the back of his hand. "All done. You probably need stitches. But that's the best I can do."

"You know that sounds kinda strange coming from a cop."

A small smile lifted her lips when she met his gaze. "Sorry." 

"No, I get it. And it's true, even if most people aren't willing to admit it."

"What about you?" she asked, steering the conversation away from herself, away from the pain that dogged her steps.

"What do you want to know?" 

"Well," she started, sorting through the multitude of questions in her mind. "Have you always lived in Montana?" 

"Oh, no. My brothers and I are from the south."

"Do you have family there?"

"My family is here. I've got my brothers. That's enough." 

She nodded, swallowing the thick lump in her throat. If she had a sibling, one person who cared, it would have been enough. 
  
John might've been one of the most arrogant people she'd ever met, but he was loyal when it came to his family. The more she discovered about them, the harder it was to fall in line with the prejudices of the rest of the county. 

"Guess I got my date after all," Jacob said, pulling her out of the pit her thoughts were spiraling into. 

When she looked up, he was smiling. She stared at him, at the amused look he was wearing for some reason.

It was Friday. 

"Don't tell me you did this on purpose."

He smirked. "You think I'd cut my hand to keep you in here?" 

God, it sounded ridiculous when he said it out loud. 

"But I'd be lying if I said it didn't work out in my favor. Think I can trade in my sympathy points for your number?" 

She stared at him, her mind playing catch up to his latest proposition. 

"What's the harm in it?" he asked when she didn't say anything. 

Rachel could think of a lot of harm it could do.

"I'm a cop."

"Yeah?"

"You're..." she trailed off before she said something that would likely get her thrown out of his truck. "You're not serious."

"Why not? You're pretty. I'm handy with a tire. It could work." 

A deep blush flared in her cheeks. She shook her head, fighting the smile that pulled at her lips. 

"Look, I'm not asking you to marry me, honey. I'm just asking if you'd like to be taken out sometime?" 

She stared at him, pondering the strangeness of it all. Jacob Seed was nothing like the man his reputation painted him as. Nothing like his brother. Sure, he was smug, but there was an undercurrent of playfulness, nothing like the arrogance his brother would exude. 

More than that, though, he went out of his way to help her, offering her a warm truck while he stood in the cold rain, fixing her tire. 

"I'm not sure," she answered honestly. "It's been a while since I've dated." 

Seven years. 

"Well, I better make it good then." 

He reached for the cell phone sitting in the cupholder under his dash. The screen lit up and he pressed a few buttons, then passed the phone to her. It was a contact page, the name was already filled out.

'Pretty girl'

Heat filled her cheeks, and she bit the inside of her lip, lest she smile like a fool. She typed her number into the proper line before erasing the name and filling it in with her real one. 

She passed the phone back and reached for the handle. 

"I think I'm warm enough now," she said, pulling the handle and opening the door. The cold wind felt good against the heat of her cheeks. She hopped out.

"Hey, Rachel," he called. She looked back to see him staring at her with that same softness in his eyes. A softness that made no sense but she'd be lying if she said it didn't feel nice. "Take care of yourself, alright?" 

She stared at him. Taking in his words and the fervor with which he said them. When was the last time anyone cared whether or not she was taken care of?

Never, her mind reminded her. 

"Thank you. Really. I'd be sleeping in my cruiser if you didn't stop." 

"Well, now you'll have my number. Use it anytime."

A wide smile crossed her face and she shook her head. 

"Goodbye Jacob," she closed the door and walked back to her cruiser. It was cold inside, all of the heat from Jacob's truck was sapped away by the cold rain still falling. She turned the key and cranked the heat, put it in gear, and pulled off the side of the road. Flashing her lights as she drove passed him, she made her way back to town. 

Back at the station, she was greeted by a very stressed-out-looking Staci. 

"Where have you been?" he asked, hopping up from his desk when she walked in the door, still drenched, cold, and not at all in the mood to talk about the strange turn her night had taken. 

"My tire went flat," she said, pulling out her phone to show him the picture she'd taken when she got back to the station. "I drove over some barbed wire, and had to change it out." 

Having a feeling it would not be received well, she left out the part that involved Jacob. 

Staci took the phone in his hand, his face going from concern to anger faster than she would've thought possible. 

"Fucking peggies. You need to show this to the sheriff."

Her brow came together as she took in the sudden shift in his mood. 

"How do you know it was them? It wasn't attached to anything but my tire. It could've fallen off the back of someone's truck." 

He scoffed, but before he could respond, a door opened. They looked over to see Sheriff Whitehorse standing in the doorway of his office, looking at her with an expression of concern.

"Hey, kid, where you been?"

"The peggies are at it again, sheriff," Staci said, walking over and handing him her phone. Whitehorse studied the photo, his brow creasing deeply before he looked back at her.

"What happened?"

"I don't think it was them," she said, hoping to diffuse the situation. "No one was around when it happened." 

"No?" he asked, turning his gaze back to Staci. "We talked about this."

"Come on Sheriff. Whenever there's trouble it's always them. We can't let this slide." 

"And picking fights never got anyone anywhere. You get some real evidence, like what the two of you found at the radio tower, we'll talk. Until then, you have to let it go."

"What's the point anyway?" he asked, "You'd just let them go again." 

Whitehorse fixed him with a simmering glare. "Go home, Pratt. Get some sleep. We can talk about this in the morning." 

Staci scoffed, but relented, and stalked out of the room shaking his head. The door connected with the frame so fast and hard that the sound echoed around the room. It was hard not to sympathize with him. It was beyond frustrating trying to prosecute someone who found endless loopholes to avoid it. 

But this time, at least, she sided with Whitehorse. Picking fights wouldn't do any good, especially if it was unwarranted. A deep sigh passed her lips, the exhaustion of the day catching up to her. 

"That goes for you too," the sheriff said, and she looked back to see him heading toward her. He passed her phone back to her, wearing an odd expression she couldn't decipher. "Get some rest. I'm gonna need you here bright and early to help with him."

He made his way to the door, stopping only when he reached it, and looked back at her with that same, unreadable expression that was somewhere between confusion and amusement. 

"Message came through," he said, nodding toward the phone in her hand. 

She looked down. A line of numbers she didn't recognize illuminated the screen. A single word filled the message box beneath. 

It was just one word, but it was enough to cause the heat of a blush to return to her cheeks. 

Jacob. 

She looked up as the door closed behind the sheriff, leaving her alone to deal with the fallout of her thoughts. 

Chapter Text

Rachel's phone buzzed, the notification causing her desk to vibrate. She looked at her phone sitting on the top of her desk, knowing it was him and debated whether or not to look. 

It didn't take long for morbid curiosity to sink its claws into her. She reached for her phone, flipped it over, and illuminated the screen with a press of a button.  

Good morning.

She bit the inside of her cheek, laid her phone back onto the desk, and turned her gaze back onto her computer screen. She was filling in a report and needed to focus. At least, that's what she told herself. 

A few minutes later, her phone buzzed again. This time she didn't hesitate to reach for it. 

You know, if you don't respond, I'm gonna think you gave me the wrong number.

She moved her fingers across the keyboard, typing out a quick response. 

Good morning, Jacob. 

A few seconds later her phone buzzed again. 

Are you free tonight? 

She couldn't help the smile that came to her face at his response. 

"What are you smiling about?" 

She looked up, Staci had spun his chair around and was staring at her. A deep frown pulled at his lips, he looked even more miserable than he had the previous night. Her smile faded at the sight of his contemptuous expression. 

"Nothing," she said, setting her phone down and turning her attention back to her screen. 

Staci's gaze lingered, but eventually, she heard the gears in his chair squeak as he turned back to his own computer. She minimized the screen. 

She hadn't forgotten about the message. Deep down, she didn't know if she wanted to take him up on his offer, even after spending the better part of her night tossing and turning, debating it until she passed out from exhaustion. She reached for her coffee, downing the last of it, and opening the county hard drive on her desktop. 

Before she made a decision, she needed to know what she was getting herself into. 

She clicked on the first empty box at the top of the screen. The cursor blinked for a few seconds before she typed in the name and pressed enter. The page loaded, and boxes of text covered the screen. 

Jacob Seed. March 1st, 1974.

And she tried her absolute best not to do the math on that one. 

Glancing up, she found Staci typing away at his desk. She looked back at her screen.

Below his name was a list of offenses and date stamps. She started with the first one, an arson charge from 1990. She read through the report, which was short on details, but that was likely the fault of switching to the digital world than anything else. What she managed to gather from the report, was that he'd been only sixteen at the time. The offense ended with time served in juvie. 

After that, the offenses were petty things like trespassing, speeding, and a host of other misdemeanors that ended with no time served. While perhaps a little offputting, nothing stood out as overly violent. Certainly, nothing that would, or should have earned him the reputation that preceded him. 

Perhaps, it was the fault of his brothers, she thought. But before she had a chance to follow up on that train of thought, the sound of a door opening behind her had her scrambling to close the file. She clicked the large, red X, and turned in her chair to see the Sheriff entering with a cupholder full of coffee. 

She smiled. Sometimes, his timing was impeccable. 

"Mornin', kids," he drawled with a still sleepy rasp, "No Hudson today?" 

"She's on patrol," Staci said, and she could hear the lingering irritation in his tone. She glanced back, the shine of her glossy phone case catching her attention as it reflected the bright morning light coming through the large window. 

No time like the present, she thought, reaching for the device. 

I'm free. 

As she pressed send, it struck her to wonder what her mother would think. A dreadful turn of thought that she had no interest in pursuing. A deep frown came to her face at the memory of the vocal lashings she received when she was discovered with the pastor's son. 

The fact that she was eighteen didn't matter, it branded her soul whorish all the same. And when the cancer invaded only months later, her mother viewed it as divine retribution. 

Yes, she could only imagine the colorful things her mother would say about this, were she still alive. 

She pushed the thought away before it could fester as Whitehorse placed a large, brown disposable cup on her desk. 

"Thank you," she said, reaching for the cup and taking a deep draw of the warm liquid. "I just finished my report on the I90 incident. No sign of the missing couple this side of the county line."

"Good," he said, turning towards Staci and placing a clone of her cup on his desk. "Maybe those officials from Chelsea will finally be off our backs." 

"Maybe they'd be a lot more forgiving if we arrested someone for once," Staci said, keeping his eyes on his screen as he continued to work. 

Whitehorse stared at him for a long moment, his expression moving from irritation to sympathy. 

"Be careful what you wish for," he said. "We're peacekeepers above everything else. No matter what it costs us. Don't lose sight of that."

With that, he turned, moving around his desk to place a similar cup on Hudson's desk before retreating into his office and closing the door. The soft click of the latch sounded so final in the quiet room. 

Staci scoffed, before turning in his chair to face her again. His lip was curled upward, an expression of thoughtful disdain on his face. 

"You agree with him, don't you."

She frowned, hating the fact he was dragging her into it. "We combed the area for days. What else can we do but turn it over?"

"We can request a warrant."

And it took all of one second for her to realize who would be on the receiving end of that document.

"On what grounds?"

The corner of his lip twitched as his expression morphed into a hateful glare. "Oh, I don't know. Kidnapping, intent to harm..." he trailed off, leaving a myriad of other things left unsaid, and all of them reflecting in the depths of his dark eyes. 

"The truck was empty," she reminded him. "There were no signs of a struggle. No drag marks, no scent to track."

And absolutely nothing that tied their disappearance to Joseph Seed. 

He shook his head. "Two years ago I was just like you. I thought they were just some weird religious group. But I know what I've seen. That family is dangerous. The sheriff might be willing to turn a blind eye to it... I'm not." 

She held her hands out, at a loss. "We don't have anything solid." 

He looked at the still-closed door to the sheriff's office, then back to her. Leaning forward, he spoke in a low voice, "Then help me get it." 

She stared at him, at the cold determination set in his eyes, and the implications of what he was suggesting. 

"If there's something to be found, it'll turn up," she assured him with a nod, hoping to placate him, if only for a short time. 

To her relief, it was enough, at least for now. Somehow though, she doubted anything would turn up. Or if it did, it likely wouldn't be enough to satisfy the prejudices he'd formed in his mind. 

Sometime later, Rachel was leaning in her chair, clicking through a report and glancing at her phone that hadn't buzzed in several hours now when Staci spoke up from the far end of the room. 

"Hudson's been gone a while," he said, pulling a rectangular tray out of the microwave and hissing when the heat of it touched his fingers. "Think she got caught up?"

Rachel checked the watch on her wrist. It was just past noon. She glanced at the desk adjacent to Staci's, the cup Whitehorse had brought in was still there, untouched. Her lips parted, but it mattered not because the door to the sheriff's office opened and Whitehorse appeared. 

"There's trouble up in the Whitetails again," he said, looking right at her. And somehow she knew exactly who he meant by that. "You better get up there." 

She was out of her seat faster than she would've thought possible.

"I'll drive," Staci said, grabbing the jacket off the back of his chair and following her out of the station. 

Rachel bit at the tip of her thumbnail as Staci drove down the winding dirt road, kicking up dirt behind them, blue and red lights flashing, and passing dozens of trees at a concerning pace. She eyed the speedometer from the passenger seat, watching the needle push past sixty once they'd reached a more stable stretch of the road. 

His brow was drawn, an edge of irritation splayed on his face that worried her. As they grew closer, a feeling of anticipation welled inside her and she knew Whitehorse was right. Staci was walking a dangerous line, and if he wasn't careful, all of them would be paying the price for it.

Jacob Seed looked as menacing as ever when they pulled up outside the St Francis Veterans Center from where he stood, towering over a couple of men who looked all too familiar to Rachel as she and Staci made their way over. Jacob didn't look up as they approached, only continued to glare at the older of the two men. His rifle was slung over his shoulder and there was a machete strapped to his thigh. And although both of his weapons were holstered, the look in his eyes was a deadly shade of red.

"Put the rifle down Seed!" Staci shouted. Rachel looked at him, watching his hand inching toward the holster on his hip. 

"Don't," she warned him, praying that he would listen. 

Instead of waiting to find out, she quickened her pace, walking right up to where the standoff was taking place, and looked at Jacob. He looked at her finally, turning his tight expression on her. Staci was right behind her. 

"Afternoon officers." 

Gone was any amount of softness that those eyes may have held the night before. Replaced by a hard and intentional look framed by a unique expression of ultraviolence. 

"I'm gonna take this," she said, gesturing to the rifle on his shoulder. "So we can be calm about this." 

His cold eyes narrowed at her, but he made no move to stop her. With careful movements, she slid the rifle strap off his shoulder, unclipped the magazine, and laid the weapon at her feet. Still holding onto the magazine, she looked back at him. 

"What's going on?" 

"Well, officer, it's like I told you the last time. Seems that these two just can't stay off my property," he said, glaring over the top of her head at the two men. 

She turned to face the men but stayed where she was between them and Jacob. The last thing she needed was for this to start turning south. 

"We heard the howling again. I have proof this time," one of the men, the younger of the two said. 

He pressed a button on his phone and handed it over. She took it from him, and glanced down, a deep sigh forming in her chest at what she saw. A long row of large, familiar cages lined one side of the photo. 

They were empty. 

"See?"

Staci reached for the phone. She passed it to him and took a deep breath. 

"I've already seen the cages," she said, catching Staci's reaction in the corner of her vision. He turned his head to look at her so quickly that she was surprised he hadn't hurt himself from the force of it. "They're for intrusive predators. Coyotes. And I've seen nothing to suggest they were anything else." 

A pair of confused and exasperated expressions looked back at her.  

"We heard the howling again, officer," the older man argued. "We hear it all the time."
 
She nodded. 

"I believe you heard something. But I need you to call me when you hear it, not go trespassing to find the source of it. Now the two of you are the ones breaking the law, and Jacob has every right to prosecute you if he wants to."

The two men looked at each other before the eldest one locked eyes with Jacob again. The corner of his lip twitched as the two men glared at each other, a line of silent communication as red as rage passing between them. 

She turned to Jacob, "Did you want to press-..."

The sound of another vehicle pulling into the driveway caught her attention and she trailed off when she recognized the shiny black SUV. 

And how she couldn't help but wonder, could it possibly get any worse?

"Stop right there," Staci shouted, holding a hand up. The other rested firmly on his holster. The engine died before he spoke again. "Step out of the vehicle, now!" 

The door opened, and it came as no surprise when John Seed stepped out wearing expensive black loafers polished to a high shine. He surveyed the scene, eyeing them all for a few seconds. And if she didn't know any better, she would swear she saw his lip curl in what very much looked like an amused expression. 

"What's going on here, brother?" he asked, taking a few steps toward Jacob. 

"None of your business, Seed," Staci seethed, causing John to pause. 

"Trespassing," Rachel said, wanting nothing more than to get this over with. The sooner they were back at the station, the better off everyone would be, including her. "I need to know if Jacob is pressing charges."

John looked at the two men, then back at her. "Was it Eli, or the kid?" 

"Both," Jacob said from behind her. It was just one word, but she could hear the anger in it ringing loud and clear. 

God and she just felt so stupid for the way she'd handled things the last time she was here. 

"We're pressing charges," John said, sounding almost giddy at the thought. 

Rachel turned toward Jacob just long enough to pass him the magazine to his rifle. Avoiding his angry gaze, she kept her eyes down as she reached for her cuffs and approached Eli. He put up no fight against her, only continued to stare at Jacob with a simmering hatred when she put his arms behind his back. 

"This isn't over." 

"Was that a threat?" John asked, his smile beaming as though he'd won the state lottery. "That's as much of a sin as it is grounds for a restraining order."  

"You have the right to remain silent," she said, ignoring John as best she could and tightening the second cuff around Eli's other wrist. "Do not say anything else." 

"You can't be serious," Staci said, looking at her like she'd just shot him in the back.   

"We can talk about this at the station," she said, glaring back at him while she looped a second set of cuffs around the kid, and led both of them in the direction of the cruiser. "With the sheriff." 

A few minutes later, they were on their way back. Rachel drove this time, eager to put as much distance between herself and whatever the hell that just was. The ride was mostly silent, and Rachel could feel Staci's gaze upon her, almost tasting the tension in the air. Thick and heavy, it hung above them, waiting to be released. 

"Since when are you guys on their side?" the kid muttered from the backseat. 

"Be quiet, Wheaty," Eli said to him. 

"We're not on anyone's side," she said, keeping her gaze forward for the remainder of the ride. 

It was frustrating. The whole ordeal had been frustrating from the start, and Staci had been no help at all. She focused on the road and the landscape outside her window, changing from the budding greens of spring to the vast, empty farmlands that paved the way back to town. 

Inside the station, Hudson and the Sheriff were waiting for them. Their eyes went wide when Rachel and Staci walked in with the two men in custody. 

"What happened?" Whitehorse asked. 

She seated Eli in the extra chair at her desk before sitting down beside him. Shaking her mouse to wake up the desktop, she flashed her eyes at Staci who had taken the kid to his desk. 

"Ask Staci," she said, opening the county hard drive to begin the booking process. 

"Pratt."

He scoffed. "I don't know why you're even asking me. She's the one that arrested them." 

"For breaking the law," she added, glaring at the back of his head when he sat at his desk in front of her. "But don't take it from me," she said, turning her attention back to the sheriff. "John will be here in five minutes." 

It was less than three. And her irritation only mounted when she watched him leave, not even twelve minutes later with a manila folder of paperwork tucked under his arm, long before she had even finished checking them in. 

It was after six when she finally made it back to her trailer. Just after seven when she shut the hot water off and stepped out of the shower to her phone buzzing on her sink. 

She stood there in her bathroom, wrapped in her towel and still dripping as she stared at the device. There was no need to look, she knew who it was. Could feel it even though she'd spent the better part of the day forcing herself to think about anything else. Because she knew after what happened, after the way he looked at her, that he wouldn't want anything to do with her. Whatever it was, it was over. 

She expected it, yet that did nothing to quell the disappointment she felt when her phone remained silent throughout the afternoon. 

So why make contact now? She picked up the phone and tapped the screen. 

Silver Lake C-dock at 9. 

She stared at the screen, flooded by the warmth of excitement and confusion all the same. It made no sense, yet there it was. And she only had a little more than an hour to prepare. 

She spent the better part of the next hour getting ready before taking the fifteen-minute drive up to the lake.  Once there, it was easy to find the right dock thanks to the well-marked wooden signs posted along the road. When she pulled in, Jacob was already there. 

He was leaning against his truck, arms crossed, and watching her as she parked the cruiser beside him. Taking only her keys, she stepped out and met him at the front of his truck. 

The first thing she noticed was the slight, almost amused-looking smile pulling at his lips, an almost unsettling contrast to the vicious glare he'd been wearing only hours ago. The second thing was the rolled-up blanket sitting beside him on the hood of his truck. 

"What's the matter?" he asked, noticing her hesitant expression. 

"Nothing really," she said with a shrug. "I'm just a little surprised you still want to do this." 

He smirked. "You think I went through all that trouble to back out at the last minute?"

A small smile pulled at her lips. 

"Although," he said, looking her over, "we'll be staying outside, so you're gonna need a coat."

He was already shrugging out of his camo jacket when the meaning of his words settled in her mind and covered her shoulders with it long before she had a chance to protest. 

"What about you?" she asked, shoving her arms through the too-big sleeves. The scent of him hit her, warm and heady with a slight floral scent she couldn't place. Sweet, earthy, and slightly musty. But given that he seemed to spend a considerable time outdoors, that didn't really come as a surprise. 

"Good point. I guess that means we'll be sitting pretty close," he said, reaching for the blanket and starting off in the direction of a trail parting the trees. 

She followed him, hurrying to catch up and match his pace. They didn't go far, only following the trail for a few minutes, but it was enough that by the time they reached a large clearing on the edge of the lake, the last of the evening light was just disappearing behind the mountains. 

Jacob laid the blanket down about a hundred or so feet from a cabin at the edge of the clearing. She assumed it belonged to his family, as they seemed to own a good half of the county between them. 

Echoes of singing and laughter erupted from across the lake. Rachel looked over, piqued by the sound coming from the large mansion barely discernable from across the water. 

"That's Joseph's place," Jacob said, drawing her attention to where he was sitting on the blanket. He patted the empty space next to him, beckoning her to sit. The movement was almost lost to the darkness settling around them. "He promised to keep the lights off for us." 

She looked at him as the words clicked in her mind. 

"You told him?" she asked, taking the spot beside him. 

"Of course I did," he said as though it were as easy as breathing. He laid back, clasping his hands behind his head. "Now come on, it's starting." 

It struck her as odd, and she didn't really know how to feel about it. If Joeseph knew, then it was probably safe to assume that John would know too. But John hadn't acted any different toward her. At least, not as far as she could tell. While she didn't share his enthusiasm for telling his brother, she couldn't imagine there had been any malice behind it. 

Jacob was still smiling at her, watching her with those light blue eyes and an indiscernible expression while waiting for her to lie down beside him. Taking a deep breath, she laid down, feeling the softness of grass cushioning their blanket, and looked up. 

Hundreds of stars shimmered above her head in the moonless sky. Both bright ones and faint ones, some clusters and some sparse. A smile came to her face when she spotted a constellation she could name. 

"There's Orion," she said, pointing. 

"Look there," Jacob said, reaching up to point across the lake to the spot just above the mountains, where a dusting of misty clouds stretched across the night sky. 

Except they weren't clouds. They were green.

"Oh my god."

Her eyes pricked for some, strange reason as she gazed at the swirling mist of green and silver reaching up to touch the heavens. The longer she looked, the easier it became to make out the swirling shapes in the ethereal mist. 

At some point, Jacob reached for her hand, lacing his fingers through hers and causing goosebumps to erupt along her skin from the sensation. Keeping their hands entwined, she moved closer, turning into him and resting her cheek on his shoulder as she continued to gaze at the shimmering display.

"It's beautiful." 

A sense of contentment washed over her. Something so foreign to her but so welcome, and she relaxed into the feeling, letting it enrapture her if only for a moment. As she kept her gaze on the heavens, she began to drift. The last thought in her mind, was that if God was real, then he was the beauty in that Montana night sky. 

Chapter Text

When Rachel woke, it was to the ice-cold droplets of rain falling against her face. Submerged in the dark of night, there was no indication of the time. But if the lingering exhaustion was anything to go by, it was sometime after midnight. She blinked against the darkness, her mind playing catch up to how she'd gotten there. 

A body shifted beside her. Then she remembered. 

Jacob sat up, looking around as the rain started to fall harder. Soon, his gaze found her in the darkness. 

"Come on," he said, getting up and extending a hand to help her stand. 

Once she was upright, he pulled her close to shield her from the rain as he led her in the direction of the cabin. She looked back at the blanket they'd left behind, the dark fabric barely discernable from the ground surrounding it. 

"Don't worry about it," he said, picking up the pace.  

The two of them hurried through the rain, and she was grateful for Jacob's coat because her hair was thoroughly saturated by the time they reached the porch. She hugged herself as Jacob shoved a hand into his pocket to retrieve a thick collection of keys, somehow finding the right one on the first try. 

When the lock popped, Jacob swung the door open. He waved his hand and she rushed in, hoping to find heat on the other side. The cabin opened into a small kitchen, and she leaned back against the island as he closed the door and twisted the lock. The last thing she saw beyond the wall of rain spilling off the porch overhang was the faint and blurry light coming from the mansion estate across the lake. 

She breathed deeply to catch her breath while Jacob raked a hand through his rain-darkened hair. His clothes were soaked through, all the way down to his boots and she looked down to find her bottom half matching. The coat had protected her shirt, but her jeans clung to her like a second skin. She swiped the back of her palm across her forehead. 

"Sorry about the rain," he said, a slight smile pulling at his lips as he stepped out of his boots. He moved closer so that she was nearly sandwiched between him and the counter behind her. A deep breath filled her as she tried to steady herself. To think about anything other than how both of his hands pressed against the counter on either side of her, caging her to the spot without even having touched her. 

To think of anything but the heat of his skin that was so close to hers. Close enough that it would be too easy to reach out and touch him if she wanted. Breathing deeply, his light blue eyes raked over her in a way that gave her the feeling he wasn't sorry at all. 

And when his gaze settled on her lips, a pulse of excitement flooded her so hard and fast that it dizzied her. 

"Are you?" she asked, her lips curling into a smile, "Sorry?"

He grinned. 

"Not at all," he said, leaning down to press his lips against hers. 

Her mind went fuzzy, the room around her fading away to nothing except the warm and tingling sensation of his lips moving against hers. One of his hands came around her, the other cupped her throat. A thumb pulled at her chin, his tongue slipping past her lips that parted eagerly to accept him. To taste him.

Tingles of pleasure erupted in her chest, fluttering with a sense of urgency so strong that she barely registered the coat sliding off her shoulders and down her arms. She shrugged it off, reaching up to wind her arms around his neck. His lips moved across the skin of her cheek and down her neck. She gasped, eyes fluttering as she leaned into the sensation, incoherent of where they were going as they moved away from the kitchen. 

A soft mattress embraced them. Jacob covered her, pawing at her clothes between hungry kisses that fanned the flame that built within her. She tugged at his shirt, and it followed hers to the floor. Cold tags touched her chest, making her gasp. Then she was warm, covered by the weight of him. She pulled at him, wanting him closer. Wanting more.

Warm fingers danced across her skin, grabbing and exploring. She moaned when they landed between her legs, finding her wet and pressing inside. She gasped when he started pumping, arching into him while her hands worked on his belt. 

It came apart easily, and he withdrew his fingers just long enough to shove his jeans down and grab himself. She spread herself wide, opening herself up to him. The head of his cock brushed her opening, causing a jolt of pleasure to move through her so suddenly, it startled her near sober. 

"Wait."

Jacob went still above her. He met her eyes, and although she could see the hunger in them, he waited.

"You're not going to disappear after this, right?" 

Her face flooded with heat before she finished asking, and she was grateful for the darkness. 

But her embarrassment was short-lived because he reached for her hand, his large fingers laced through hers, holding her hand tight as he leaned down to kiss her again. 

"I'm not going anywhere," he promised, then slipped inside her. 

She gasped, her head falling back against the pillow as she arched into him. 

"Oh, god," she breathed when he drew back, shivering as his lips danced across the flesh of her throat. 

His lips hovered next to her ear as he pushed inside her again. 

"Jacob," he whispered, causing sparks of pleasure to ignite across her skin.   

"Jacob," she moaned, the word fading into silent pleasure, her mouth falling open as he filled her completely, grinding his pelvis against her. 

His lips covered hers, and the coarse hairs of his mustache and beard scratched her skin. His tongue found its way past her lips as he drew back before entering her again. Her toes curled from the pressure, and she grasped at the flesh of his back, her nails finding purchase along his shoulders as quickened his thrusts inside her. 

A deep groan vibrated his chest as he groped the soft and delicate skin of her chest. He released her kiss, his lips finding the curve of her neck for his teeth to drag across her skin in a way that had her gasping for breath. Her legs wound around him, pulling him deeper, aching for more. 

"Don't stop," she begged, wanting nothing more than for the pleasure within her to last. 

He swore into her neck, the warm exhale cascading across her flesh. One of his hands followed the curve of her hip, grabbing her thigh and holding it tight against him as he pushed into her harder, pulling breathy moans from her lips as she neared the edge of blessed euphoria. 

He didn't stop. 

She shuddered beneath him, falling into a rapture so strong that she cried out, clutching him harder as she spiraled into bliss.  

When she came back from heaven Jacob was using slow and shallow thrusts to come down, his heart pounding so hard that she felt it against her chest. Then he was still, the weight of him pinning her to the mattress in the best way. She didn't mind. Her body felt alive, electrified by the pleasure but her tired eyes had already closed. She was already drifting when Jacob pulled out of her, moving to her side and holding her close. 

A large, warm hand slid against her abdomen and she smiled. His fingers spread wide as he clutched her to him, pressing his lips against her shoulder as she floated away. 

Then she dreamed. 

In her dream, there was a bell. A pretty white one that glowed as it touched her nose. She breathed in, tasting the notes of honey on her tongue as she exhaled. 

She smiled as her lids succumbed to a drowsy haze. 

Then Jacob was there. He kissed her hard and she moaned at the pleasure spreading throughout her muscles. She reached for him, reveling in the feeling of him touching her, him above her, him inside of her. 

She arched into him, feeling as though she were riding a high of pure ecstasy and hoping it would last forever. And as she crested the wave, falling into the abyss of pleasure again, her only thoughts were those of bliss. 

When she woke next, it was to the foreign sight of a stranger's bedroom. It took several seconds for her dizzy mind to piece the memory together, and when it did, she felt the vicious heat bloom in her cheeks and flare down to her neck. Then she looked beside her, the heat in her doubling when she made eye contact with Jacob Seed. 

Realization soon took over, coming down on her hard and fast like sinking through thin ice. 

Oh, no.

She sat up, carefully untangled her legs from his, and slid from the bed. Jacob sat up to watch her, and she tried her best to ignore him as she scooped her pants off the floor and shoved her legs into them.

"You runnin' out?"

She looked up, catching the seriousness of his expression, and paused. Her chest felt heavy, as the memories filled her mind. It wasn't her fault her mother was dead, she knew that. Yet that knowledge did nothing to stem the heavy sense of guilt that filled her. 

With a deep frown, she continued to dress. After a moment, Jacob grabbed his t-shirt from the floor and pulled it over his head, then he waited. 

"I don't really know what to say," she said finally. She could see the confusion in his expression. Could see him working to understand her actions. "I don't do this. I haven't..." 

"Hey," he said, stepping closer to lay his hands on her arms. One of his thumbs rubbed calm circles into her bicep. Light blue eyes looked into hers with a softness that made no sense but implored her all the same. "Let me get you a cup of coffee, alright?"

Every instinct was telling her to leave, to run from the mistake she'd made. To hide from her sins and wait for the repercussions that would no doubt follow. 

But none of that was real. And more than the feeling of wanting to run, more than anything, Rachel wanted to stay right where she was with Jacob. 

She nodded.

After dressing, she followed him into the kitchen and seated herself at the island. True to his word, Jacob ran the faucet into the kettle and scooped grounds into the tray. When the machine began brewing, he retrieved a carton of cream from the fridge, splashing a bit into the bottom of a mug, and added a spoonful of sugar. 

With the scent of fresh coffee permeating the air, he filled her mug and gave it a stir before placing it on the island in front of her. 

She sipped it, mindful of the steaming temperature as Jacob turned his attention back on the fridge. 

"So..." he said. "You want to tell me why you almost ran out on me?"  

A velvet heat flooded her face, and she was thankful he was facing away from her, focusing on the eggs now simmering in the pan. Telling him why also meant bringing up all the things she spent so much time avoiding thinking about. 

Finally, she exhaled a shaky laugh, and said, "It's a long story."

"Liar," he said, but thankfully let it drop as he opened a plastic container of colorful vegetables and dumped them inside the pan, pushing the mixture around with a wooden spatula. 

Leaving them to simmer, he poured a mug for himself, and within minutes the two of them were eating quietly on the island.  

It was not lost on her the strangeness of it all. How could it be, that the absolute pariah of Hope County that was Jacob Seed was the same man who fixed her tire and made her breakfast?

It was just keeping in with the theme of her life she supposed. 

When she finished, Jacob walked her to the door. With one hand on the door handle, he reached for her, pulling her close and pressing his lips against hers. His thumb traced the length of her jaw.

"You can't get rid of me that easily," he said, his low voice just above a whisper. 

A small smile pulled her lips upward, and she reached up to kiss him again. 

"I should go," she said finally. 

"I'll see you soon," he said, and she couldn't help the way her chest fluttered in response to his promise. 

Leaving the cabin behind, she made her way back to her cruiser, all the while her mind swirling with a myriad of thoughts. His truck was still there, a now familiar rifle still racked against the back window. 

Sliding into her seat, she grabbed her phone to check her messages. Pressing the power button, her brow came together when nothing happened. She pressed it again.

Nothing. It was dead.

With a sigh, she tossed the phone in the passenger seat and started the car. It was a fifteen-minute drive back to her trailer. Fifteen minutes that seemed to stretch to infinity as she pondered her time with Jacob. How easy it was to be around him, yet how difficult she knew it would be to maintain. 

And god help her if Staci found out. She couldn't even begin to imagine her co-worker's reaction if he knew she was effectively dating his enemy. It was a sobering train of thought. 

Her mother's life insurance policy kept her going just long enough to secure a job and the one-bedroom trailer that was her new home. She couldn't afford to move again. If she lost her job now, she'd have nothing. 

A sense of worry wormed inside her as she wondered how on earth she would navigate the situation she'd created for herself. 

Stepping out of the shower, she dressed in her uniform, dried her hair, and hurried out the door. 

It was around noon that she finally made it to the station. When she walked in, she was greeted by four expressions ranging from curiosity to worry staring at her from Hudson's desk. 

"Jesus, where have you been?" Staci asked. 

"I'm sorry Sheriff. My phone died," she said, holding it up and pressing the power button to prove her case. 

"It's ok," Whitehorse said, "I'm just glad you're alright."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

She stared at him, confusion replacing remorse as she took in the sight of ammunition on Hudson's desk. Her gaze rose, and she locked eyes with the fourth person standing behind the desk. Arms crossed, he stared at her with a curious expression. Then her gaze dropped, and she read the bold yellow letters stamped on the front of his vest.

'U.S. Marshal'

"Deputy Rachel," he said, stepping around the desk. "Glad you could join us. I'm here to talk to all of you about Joseph Seed." 

"What happened?" she asked, looking back to the others. Hudson looked guilty, and the sheriff seemed disappointed more than anything else. 

Staci scoffed, a sardonic smile tugging at the corner of his lips when she met his gaze. "Something came up."

With that, the marshal handed her a small, silver-backed phone. There was a paused video on the screen, a picture of a white church with a group of people gathered around. A man stood near the door, a peggie, strapped with a rifle as he held the door open for the group to enter.

Her throat ran dry as she looked back at the Marshal. 

"The couple that went missing, Ava and Jon Adams. They work for the FBI. They went undercover to investigate Hope County's little 'community'. They haven't been seen since. Lucky for us, they managed to live long enough to transmit enough evidence for an arrest."

Her mind reeled, rejecting the words as he said them. 

"Wait a second... they're dead?" she asked, fighting to make sense of what she was hearing.

"Go ahead," he said, nodding at the phone in her hands. "See for yourself."

She looked down at the image again. It was then that Rachel realized she was sweating. Her skin began to tingle, and her ears erupted with a sharp ringing as she stared at the peggie on the screen. 

It was not lost on her that the church in the video was the same one that sat across the very same lake she'd just spent the night on. 

With every fiber in her body fighting against it, her trembling finger hovered over the screen for only a second before pressing the button and starting the video that would change the course of the rest of her life. 

Chapter Text

Rachel stared at the screen, the video paused on the last frame. Joseph stood over the crumpled man at his feet, his blood-soaked hands outstretched as he reached upward, proclaiming a righteous message to his followers. 

"We're crossing over the Henbane now..." the Marshal's voice came over her headset. 

But Rachel wasn't looking at him. Her gaze was locked on the man standing a few feet away from Joseph. The man who wore the very same camo jacket she'd been wearing a day ago and brandished a rifle as though he meant to use it. 

Voices from her colleagues continued to play over the intercom.

"There's his statue. We're in Joseph territory now." 

"Crazy motherfucker."

Although the video was dim, she knew it was him. Knew that it was Jacob standing right there next to his murderous brother. Watching him in the aftermath of his crime and remaining as still as stone. A staunch supporter and god knows what else. Rachel's head began to hurt from the pressure of her headset as the helicopter soared above the misty evening landscape.

The screen cut off as the signal disappeared, taking the picture of Jacob with it. She smacked the phone against her palm, a fruitless attempt to get it back.

"Hey, Dep... Dep."

The sheriff's voice cut through the static in her helmet, and she looked up, frowning as she locked eyes with him and the look of concern he was giving her. "Don't waste your time. There's no signal out in Peggie country. Only thing working this far out is radio." 

 "How much longer?" the Marshal asked, turning in his seat to ask Hudson and Pratt at the helm. 

"Just long enough for you to change your mind," Whitehorse answered, reigniting an earlier debate.

The Marshal scoffed. "You want me to ignore a federal warrant, sheriff?" 

Rachel stopped listening. She fixed her gaze out the window. The hair on her arms stood up as she the miles of farmland and mountains flew past. Each moment drawing them closer to the scene of the crime. Closer to him. 

"We're here," Staci said finally. "The Compound is just below." 

Smoke billowed upward from several pits stationed throughout the lakeside community. Over a dozen buildings dotted the landscape on either side of the makeshift road leading up to the church. 

"Last chance, Marshal. Are you sure you want to do this?" 

The compound was large, but only a few peggies were outside. They stood outside the church, a semi-circle of rugged leather and armed weaponry.

"This is a bad idea," Hudson muttered, sounding as reluctant as Rachel felt. 

It was an eerie sight, and Rachel couldn't help the pit of nervousness that sprouted inside her. A terrible sense of trepidation washed over her, and she knew without a doubt that something terrible was about to happen. 

"Take us down."

"Listen up, everyone. No matter what happens, you stay calm. Keep your guns in your holsters, and you let me do the talkin', got it?"

"Got it." 

Staci brought them down on the outskirts of the community. The sound had drawn more of the Peggies out of their houses. And she was surprised at how many there were. Their earlier estimation had been way off. They gathered outside, and Rachel couldn't help but notice the number of them who were armed. 

"He'll be in the church," Whitehorse said. "Staci, keep it running. The rest of you, follow me." 

With that, he started down the dirt path through the heart of the compound. Rachel followed alongside Joey and Burke, her heart pumping wildly as dozens of eyes watched them pass. 

"You're not welcome here!" one of the peggies shouted from behind a chain link fence, starting a round of agreement from the others. 

"I don't like this," Hudson muttered. 

"I don't either," she agreed, eyes darting between the Peggies glaring at them as they passed. 

It was far beyond her how the Marshal believed any of this was supposed to work. They were severely outnumbered and out gunned. One mistake could cost them everything. No, she didn't like this at all. 

"Jesus Christ," the marshal sounded annoyed, "you're wearing badges, aren't you?" 

"They don't respect a badge much out here," Hudson said.

"They'll respect a nine millimeter." 

They heard the singing before the church came into view. 

When they reached the doors, the marshal wasted no time grabbing the handle. The sheriff put a hand up to stop him. "Don't forget, we're doing this my way."

The marshal scoffed, "Relax, sheriff. You're about to make the biggest move of your career."

"Keep an eye out, Hudson. Keep it calm. Dep, you're on me."

"You got it," she said with a nod, taking a deep breath to prepare herself for whatever was on the other side of those doors. 

The doors opened outward, revealing a large, candlelit space. The walls were high, decorated by a sprinkling of old and peeling paint and hastily scrawled religious quotes about baptism and strength. A group of peggies lined either side of the aisle, stretching all the way to the pulpit where Joseph Seed stood, delivering a sermon. 

"We are creeping toward the edge..." he continued as though he hadn't noticed them enter, "and there will be a reckoning." 

The old wood floors squeaked beneath their feet. The sound seemed to echo, and Rachel fought the panic that welled in her throat as she followed the two men closer.

"They want to take our guns, our freedom, and our faith," he said, the anger in his conviction growing steady. "And we will not let them." 

A few of the peggies moved closer, and Rachel's hand moved to her hip, stopping halfway to her holster when she locked eyes with one of the men near the pulpit. He was leaning against the wall, one leg crossed over the other, and clad in what was now a very familiar camo jacket. 

Jacob. 

"We will not let their greed, or their immorality or depravity hurt us anymore!"

"Joseph Seed!" the marshall shouted, his voice echoing throughout the chamber. He reached for the folded paper in his vest and held it up. "I have a warrant issued for your arrest." 
 
"Is that so?" Rachel turned her head, the voice of John stealing her attention. "Mind if I have a look at-"

"Don't move!" he shouted, jabbing a finger out in John's direction. "Now I want you to step forward and keep your hands where I can see them." 

"Here they are," Joseph said, his tone much softer now as he took a solemn step forward, spreading his hands as if to display them. "The locusts in our garden."

A chorus of complaints rose up around them, each one blending into the next as the peggies shouted for them to leave. 

"It's just as I've told you. And now it has come. Fear not, children, for we have prepared for this. Now go, and fulfill our lord's vision," he told them. One by one, the peggies began to leave, each one shooting them a hateful glare before disappearing until only Joseph and his siblings remained in the church. 

"Step forward, Seed. Deputy, cuff this son of a bitch," the marshal said, but she wasn't looking at him. She wasn't looking at Joseph either. Her gaze strayed past him to where Jacob was standing only a few feet away. His brow pinched tight as he stared back at her, concern lining the edges of his expression. 

"Deputy."

She startled, glancing at the marshal just long enough to see his angry expression. She reached for her cuffs and looked back at Joseph.

"God will not let you take me," he said, conviction reflecting in his eyes despite his outstretched arms. 

The silence that followed was so stark, so stifling as she felt the weight of their eyes on her. And despite the order she'd been given, she could not bring herself to move. 

"Do it, deputy." 

She looked past him again, finding Jacob, his eyes still staring at her with a burning intensity. Flashes of the night before flooded her mind, leaving her dizzy. He was closer now, one foot outstretched toward her, and her gaze was drawn to John's hand clasped around his arm. 

She couldn't do it. 

"Sheriff," she said, her voice nearly a whisper. "I-"

"Oh for fuck sake!" the marshal snapped, snatching the cuffs out of her hands and snapping them closed around Joseph's wrists. "Let's go."

With that said, he yanked on the cuffs, pulling Joseph forward and steering him out of the church. Whitehorse pulled her along, forcing her away from Jacob and into the angry mob that awaited them outside. 

The next moments were a blur, the trip back to the helicopter a dreadful mix of trepidation and adrenaline as they hurried across the compound. The air was cool, late spring nights bringing a rolling chill that caused her skin to prickle into goosebumps. 

At least, that's what she told herself. Lest she be forced to admit it was fear that kept her eyes forward, kept her from facing the fallout of their actions unfolding around them. 

A sigh of relief left her when the helicopter came into view. But it was short-lived. No sooner had Burke shoved Joseph inside did the first shot ring out, echoing in the night air. 

The peggies swarmed the helicopter, their weight causing the helicopter to strain as Pratt steered it upward. They forced themselves inside, reaching for Joseph as bullets bounced off the metal exterior. Something sharp struck her thigh, but she couldn't see what it was in the darkness. 

The last thing she heard was the sound of Joseph's hymn rising above the shouting as she wrestled with the peggie that pulled at her vest. 

When she opened her eyes, they were blurry. Something warm and wet streaked across her face. She groaned, blinking against the orange light surrounding her field of vision. She could see Burke in the seat across from her, his arms stretched out above his head in a strange position. The muffled but familiar sound of dispatch flared over the radio. 

She groaned, swiping at her face to wipe the blurry liquid away. The tips of her fingers were smeared with a shiny, dark liquid. She stared at it, contemplating the metallic scent that turned her stomach. Her eyes closed again. 

The radio flared, the sound of a hymn pulled her from slumber, and she forced her heavy eyes open to see Joseph moving around the helicopter's cabin. He reached for the radio, muttered a few words she couldn't make out, then switched it off. 

Then he was in front of her, the foreign sensation of pressure on her face as he grabbed her, forcing her to meet his stoic stare. 

"I told you that God wouldn't let you take me," he said, watching her with frightful clarity before dropping her face and stepping out of the helicopter. 

As much as she wanted to sleep, to succumb to the warmth that slowly surrounded her, she couldn't. As the ringing in her head faded, it was replaced by the sounds of struggling. She looked to her right, her eyes widening to alertness as a pair of peggies sawed through Hudson's belt with a purpose. 

"Begin the reaping!" 

She reached for her, the tips of her fingers only grazing the fabric of Hudson's sleeve before she was dragged out of sight. The scent of gasoline filled her nose, mixing with the blood that saturated her hair. 

"Let them burn. This is God's will. This is their punishment."

"Shit. We have to get out of here!" 

She looked over, Burke was now positioned upside down. A glint of steel reflected the orange light around her as he cut through the belt holding her in her seat. Spots danced across her vision as she fell, hitting the metal frame hard, and she cried out as white hot pain radiated up through her thigh. 

A wall of orange flared to life behind her. Burke stepped back, shielding his face from the flames as he hurried from the helicopter. She heard his footsteps retreating and the gunshots that followed as he left her behind.

The fire raged beside her, and she choked from the burning smoke filling the cabin. She struggled to lift herself, coughing as she crawled toward the opening, her lungs fighting for a proper breath. She pulled herself along the hot metal, feeling as though she were trapped in an oven. 

The heat was too strong, and she was about to give up when she felt hands on her. A piercing shriek left her as her wounded body was forced upright. 

Coughing and gasping, she grabbed fistfuls of the jacket he was wearing, the pain in her leg too strong to keep herself up on her own. Blinking through watery eyes, she looked up. Bright blue eyes looked back into hers, a myriad of emotion reflecting there, framed by a stern determination that worried her. 

A wad of cloth pressed against her lips and nose. Her eyes went wide, and she thrashed in his arms, struggling against him to inhale a proper breath. 

"Shhh," he whispered. The world around her gradually softened, her heart slowing as her adrenaline faded. Then she went slack in his arms, and he pulled the cloth away, bringing his hand back up to stroke her cheek in a touch so slight she questioned whether or not it was even real. 

His lips hovered over her ear, the sensation of his beard against her skin doing strange things to her fear-stricken and hazy mind. 

"Run," he whispered, giving her no time to comprehend the command before he shoved her away. She stumbled but miraculously remained upright as she staggered into the forest in a half-hearted attempt to follow the marshal. 

She held onto trees, stumbled over branches, and tripped over stray roots as she wound her way down the forested hill toward the lake. Branches scraped her face and arms, and at one point, her vest got snagged on a bush, forcing her to abandon it when she couldn't wrestle it free. 

After a while, the pain in her leg and head returned. It started with a dull ache but soon radiated with an intensity that left her nauseous. She didn't know how long she ran for, but when she stumbled out of the treeline, she was greeted by a small cabin at the lake's edge. She hurried to the door, surprised when it was unlocked and a pair of hands reached out to grab her, shoving her backward into the wall. 

A glass frame shattered from the impact, the sharp edges of the frame digging into her back as a pair of surprised and angry eyes stared back at her. 

"Burke," she breathed, sounding hoarse and reeling for breath. 

The surprise on his face was palpable. "Holy shit, dep," he said before releasing her so suddenly that she nearly dropped to the floor. The cabin opened into a small kitchen, and she leaned against the counter as the marshal locked the door and barricaded it with a chair. 

A painful pressure against her head startled her, and she jumped, staring at the blood-stained gauze Burke was holding. 

"Easy, you're bleeding all over." 

His approach was cautious this time, but she allowed him to press the gauze against her head. He lifted her hand to the spot. 

"Hold this," he said, unfastening his belt. He wound it around her thigh, pulling it taught and making her wince from the pain as he buckled it tight. 

"I'm sorry," he said, digging into the first aid kit he'd dumped onto the counter and grabbing a roll of gauze and several packets of ointment and glue. "I thought... shit, I thought you were dead." 

And she would have been if it weren't for Jacob.

She didn't know what to say to that. He popped open a bottle, handing her two thick white pills, and grabbed a glass, filling it with water before pressing it to her lips. 

She choked on the first sip, the cool water painfully sliding down her smoke-burned throat. 

"Easy," he said, tipping the glass up for her to drink again. "We can't stay here. God knows they're right behind us." 

Rachel leaned against the counter, head pounding and leg throbbing in time with her heart. Whatever Jacob had forced her to inhale was wearing off, leaving one hell of a headache in its place. 

She looked at the pile of used gauze on the countertop. The red-soaked fabric a stark contrast to the swirling pattern of modern Formica. The smell of peppers and eggs drew her attention to the mostly empty plates still sitting out. The clear mugs were stained with the cloudy remnants of that morning's brew. 

Oh, no.

She rushed to the sink, barely making it in time to heave, and wretched all over an abhorrently familiar skillet. 

Chapter Text

The low hum of radio static pulled Rachel from slumber. A familiar voice played nearby, a garbled message she couldn't understand.

"...are now in the loving embrace of my family."

Rachel groaned as she came to, trying and failing to open her eyes. Her throat strained from the sound, and she swallowed to wet the patch of dryness there. It didn't help. 

"Save for one."

She reached for her head, but her wrists snagged on something, a sharp sound echoing around the room that made her wince. The pain in her scalp radiated across the side of her head, and she groaned again. 

"This wayward soul will be found. She will be baptised. In the end, she will be made to see..."

She didn't remember drifting off but knew she must have when she opened her eyes again, less tired than before, and found herself in a dim and unfamiliar room. 

"Burke," she rasped, the sound barely above a whisper. 

An American flag hung from the wall behind a large radio. She squinted, forcing her eyes to adjust to the dark room. Her head ached, and she reached for it, the sharp sound of metal causing her to wince when her wrist was stopped by the thick silver cuff that chained her to the cot she laid on. 

Her eyes snapped to alertness, and she sat up, taking stock of the strange, windowless room she was in and wondering how the hell she had come to be there. And Burke.. where had he...

The memory came back in pieces. Arresting Joseph at his church. The helicopter crashed, and Hudson was taken. Jacob was there, pulling her out of the fire for reasons she didn't understand. Then, she was in the cabin with Burke. He patched her up and had given her a shotgun right before the peggies found them. 

Things were harder to piece together after that. There was a shootout. She remembered the sounds of screams as her instincts took over, her time in the academy guiding her aim. The gurgles of people choking on their blood, the mess of gore her shotgun had turned them into. 

She closed her eyes as if to shut the dreadful images from her mind. But their faces remained, expressions of agony twisting their faces into something entirely horrific. Something she never could have imagined. Something she was sure she would never forget.

They'd taken a Peggie truck and headed for the I90 but were cut off at the bridge. Then she was surrounded by water. The last thing she remembered was the sharp rocks of the shoreline and the taste of lakewater as she choked it up. 

The door opened. In walked an older man with a receding hairline and wearing a camoflage suit. A pair of glasses lined a serious expression, the silver frames reflecting the dim florescent lighting.  

"The roads are closed," he said, stamping out his cigar in the glass tray by the radio. A final wisp of smoke curled upward, disappearing into nothing. "The phone lines have been cut. And there's no signal getting in or out of this valley." 

He stepped closer. Instinctively, she moved back, only managing to scoot back a few inches before the chain snagged on the frame again, trapping her wrist in place. Her pulse raced in her neck when his expression darkened. 

 "In case that didn't make it clear enough, that means we're all fucked." 

Her eyes widened, and she gave an experimental yank on the chain, the cuff digging into the flesh of her wrist.

"The goddamn collapse. Joseph's got them all convinced the world is ending. They've been waiting for it. For years they've been waiting on someone to come along and fulfill their prophecy, kick off their god damn holy war." He scoffed. "Well you sure as shit kicked."

"I don't understand," she admitted. "I didn't-"

"You will. More importantly, you lucked out washing up on my island. Unlike that fed."

That got her attention.

"Burke?" 

"Oh yeah, they got him. Now I could save myself a whole lot of trouble and turn you over. Been chatter all over the waves for days now. The seeds are lookin' for you."

A wave of fear as cold as ice washed over her mind, and she could only imagine what they would do to her if they found her now after the destruction she and Burke had caused. 

Then there was Jacob. The memory of him pulling her out of the fire was too raw, too fresh to think about what it meant- if it was even real. She doubted it was, considering everything else, and wondered if she was starting to lose her mind. 

The man reached into his chest pocket, retrieving a single silver key, and knelt to unlock her cuff. 

"But I need your help. Shit, we're all gonna need your help." 

She rubbed at the red mark on her wrist reflexively, trying to make sense of it all. 

"Why?"

"You're the only one that's made it out of that shitstorm so far," he continued, "And those bastards have my niece. She went out with some of Eli's men last night to make a stand at the lumber mill. They lost the fight, and I haven't heard from her since." 

She stared at him, her mind refusing to comprehend what he was saying. 

"What?"

"It's a war out there, kid. Holy or not, this shit is real. And the only thing standing between this shit going down here and what's left of the county, is us." 

"There's a shower across the hall, you'll find fresh clothes there. You and Jess are about the same size. When you've finished, come find me in the kitchen. I'll catch you up to speed after we get some proper food in you."

An hour later, Rachel pushed a spongy lump of rehydrated eggs around her plate. The heavy stench of iodine and ointment was enough to turn her stomach, but she forced them down anyway while Dutch continued to wrap a thick layer of gauze over the barely-healed gash on her head. 

A deep frown pulled at her lips as she pondered her next move, wondering how to even begin with the knowledge that the rest of her team was gone and no one else was coming to help them. No roads, no phones, and no radio signal meant they were effectively cut off from the rest of the world. Surely, people would come looking for Burke, but God knows how long that would take. 

And the longer it took, the more people would suffer. More would die. 

At least one thing she knew to be true; like it or not, she was here now. Going back wasn't an option since there was nothing to even go back to. More than that was the nagging truth that she swore to protect these people. 

"Maybe Eli knows a way in," Dutch said, breaking the quiet. "He's been doing reconnaissance on the vet center for months now. I know he got past their defenses before. If there's a way to get your friends back, he'll know about it."

She frowned, recalling that day on Jacob's property. How could she have been so wrong? 

"What makes you think they're even alive?" 

"Best I've gathered is that Jacob took Deputy Pratt back to the Veterans' Center. Hudson is with John somewhere down in Holland Valley. That fed went to their sister's farm." 

So they were alive then. But why? she wondered and shuddered to think of the answer. 

"What about the sheriff?" she asked. She didn't remember seeing him during the crash. 

"Nothing yet. But I'll do my best to keep listening. Now then..." he trailed off as he opened a deep drawer and pulled out a thick bundle of dark cloth he handed over. She unrolled the bundle, finding a thick vest that resembled her old one. Her pulse raced as she stared at the bulletproof fabric, the gravity of it all finally setting in despite her best attempts to fight it. 

Her leg still hurt despite the meds Dutch had given her, but it was the lingering ache on the side of her head that hurt the most. 

"I hate to throw you back out there in the state you're in," he said, placing a holstered pistol on the tabletop. Close enough that she could see the numbers etched into the handle. "But... I have to get my niece back."

She looked up, finding him gazing at her with an expression of desperation and guilt. 

"No," she said, reaching for the holster and fastening it around her waist. "I understand. Besides, I need to get out there."

I have to see it for myself. 

Dutch's place was well stocked, and it showed through in the amount of weapons he revealed to her.

Some were typical. The pistols he'd given her were two regulation glocks with extended mags. The knives, the rifle. But the grenade he tucked into her vest was anything but. And it was not lost on her how, only a few days prior, her team swarmed Joseph's compound in an attempt to arrest him for breaking the law. 

It was impossible to compartmentalize, and trying to only left her struggling with a sense of confliction.  

When she was armed, the last thing he passed her was a handful of circular tablets. They were green, each one bearing the stamp of a prescription. OP and 80 were etched into each side. She tucked them into the pouch on her chest. 

"That's the best I can do, but it should last until you meet up with Dave. He's waiting on standby near the old radio tower on the edge of the lake. He's keeping an eye on the peggies that took a liking to the lumber mill. It's how I know Jess is alive. Bastards got her and some of the others holed up in cages like a bunch of animals. Meet up with him, and get my niece the hell out of there." 

The air was cool outside, a blanket of fog covering the small island and beyond. The air was thick with moisture, each breath tasting like dew. Dutch escorted her down to the shore, and once she was in one of the fishing boats, he pointed her in the direction that would take her to the radio tower. 

Not that she needed it; the tower stood tall in the distance. A dreadful beacon she steered the boat toward. 

Armed with an earpiece attached to her walkie-talkie and a map of the landscape, she set off on foot. With each step, she felt the ache in her leg, the tingles of pain lingering around the gash on the side of her head. The bruises that colored her temple and eye were a painful shade of purple and blue.

It was early afternoon when she slid the first of the little green pills between her teeth. Early evening, she took another. The sun descended, soft shades of blue embracing the sky when she finally made it to the tower. 

Dave was waiting, likely tipped off by Dutch, and he wasted no time filling her in on the details Dutch had neglected to mention as he dumped the last few rounds from a box of ammo, forcing them into a magazine. 

"We knew it was gonna happen. But knowing and seeing John roll into Fall's End, taking... everything..." he trailed off, shaking his head at a loss for words.

She stared at him, working through what he was saying. 

"Fall's End?" she asked, eyeing him with disbelief. "They took the town?" 

He scoffed. "The town? Shit, they took the whole damn county. Ain't much left that they don't have. But we're not going down without a fight." 

With that, he slid the fresh magazine into his pistol and racked the slide, loading a bullet into the chamber before meeting her gaze, a look of dark resignation in his eyes. "You ready?" 

She wasn't. But with no other options, she gave a nod, and they set off on foot to the lumber mill. It was only a mile or so from the tower, and they heard the peggies before they saw them. 

They stayed in the treeline as the sun dipped behind the trees. With only a few minutes of daylight left, Rachel borrowed Dave's binoculars. Watching and counting, and then counting again to be sure. There were eight of them outside. Eight men and women armed with weapons and knowing all too well how to use them. 

Then, in the back of the mill, she spied them. 

A long row of all too familiar cages lined the building, each one of them occupied. Above them, a message was spray-painted onto the concrete wall.

'The weak have their purpose.'

"Oh my god."

Spurred into action, they used their rifles and surprise, taking out most of the peggies at a distance. When the first bullet left the chamber, the ringing started, and everything around her seemed to slow down. The world softened, and she could hear the blood rushing in her ears while she and Dave ran around the vehicles, dispatching every peggie they crossed.   

Sweat dripped down her back. Her fingers went numb despite the solid grip she had on her glock, each of her bullets finding their target, and when they were done, she leaned against the hood of a blue truck, gasping for breath and holding her head in a fruitless attempt to stop the ringing.

Dave went to the first cage in the row. Using an axe, he tried to bust one of the locks off. The sharp sound did no favors for her head. 

In one of the cages, a woman stood near the metal door, watching her. Before she could get to her, a door burst open, and two peggies rushed out brandishing weapons. 

She stared down the barrel of their shotguns, accepting her fate in the same moment the two hesitated.

"Shit, it's the deputy!" one of them said to the other, holding a hand up to stop him, "Don't shoot her-"

Their words barely registered over the ringing in her ears. She pulled the trigger anyway, firing three rounds into each of their chests. 

As soon as they dropped, she turned to the cages and raised her free arm to shield her face as she shot the thick lock off the door. 

"Jess?"

"Yeah," she said, rushing out of the cage to loot the dead peggies for their weapons and seeming far too comfortable doing so. "Let me guess, my Uncle Dutch sent you."

She was about to respond when the sound of a walkie-talkie that wasn't hers flared with static. Her gaze followed the sound to the dead peggie at her feet. There on his waistband, she spied it. 

"Deputy..."  

Rachel froze, staring at the walkie on his belt, contemplating the almost taunting voice on the other end. The same voice that made her pulse race with a confusing mix of fear and adrenaline. 

"I think it's time we had a conversation." 

She looked at Jess, taking in the confusion in her expression as her eyes moved from Rachel to the walkie and back again. 

"Going shy on me now, deputy?" 

She scrambled to reach for the walkie. 

"What do you want?" she demanded.

"...So that's how you speak to me after I pulled you out of that helicopter?" 

She froze, feeling the weight of Jess' stare. And why did he have to sound so smug about it? Like he was proud of himself.

"You could have died," he said when she didn't say anything. His tone was softer, or she imagined it so. "That what you want?" 

She pressed the thick button. "Sounds like that's what you want." 

It was silent for a moment. "That's not what I want, Rachel. You know that." 

Her throat constricted, a dry patch forming there in response to his words. She shook her head. 

"I don't," she snapped back. 

"You're confused, I know. It's a lot to take in. I wanted-..." 

"Take in? Jacob, you're killing people," she accused, staring at the walkie as if a sensible response might come through.

"How many have you killed, deputy?" he snapped back, and she could hear the hardness return to his tone. "At the cabin...the bridge? The mill? Do you even remember their faces?..." 

"That's..." she trailed off, releasing the button before the lie would pass her lips. 

"It's not. You know that it's not. The weak always see themselves as heroes. But Eli and his friends are are not heroes, Rachel. They are not warriors or soldiers. They're children. Weak." 

An electrical whirring sound drew her attention to the dome camera perched on the corner of the roof. She didn't have to ask, she could almost feel his gaze upon her through the layers of plastic and wiring. 

"And the weak will be culled."

A strange feeling of dread crept in, and she fought against it, bringing the walkie-talkie up to her lips despite the tingles of fear radiating up her spine. 

"You'll have to go through me first." 

With that, she raised her pistol, firing two shots and watching as the plastic shards of the camera rained across the dirt, knowing without a doubt that he intended to. 

One word came over the walkie after that. Only one. But it was the promise behind it that terrified her. 

"Deal."

Chapter Text

Rachel stared at the lake water beneath her feet while they dangled over the edge of the dock. The water was murky, dark, and deep. Reminescent of the storm of thoughts in her mind as she turned the old walkie over in her hands, frowning and failing to understand. 

Nothing else came through after Jacob quit responding. Which was likely for the best, all things considered. So, why did that bother her? Why did she hold onto it? Why did she care?

Why did he pull her out of that helicopter?

Her head ached. Dull, but persistent enough. Reaching for the velcro pouch on her vest, she slipped the last of her green pills between her teeth. Swallowing it in one motion, she winced from the acidic aftertaste. 

The sun was rising, barely peeking over the mountain range and painting the horizon with streaks of pink and orange. And if it wasn't for the pain of her injuries, the exhaustion clouding her thoughts, or the days of fighting and fear wearing on her mind, she might've considered it beautiful. 

Something inside the walkie-talkie clicked, and she looked down in time to see the green light fading as the battery died. 

With a heavy sigh, she tossed the walkie-talkie into the lake, watching the ripples spread out from the impact and wondering why she kept it anyway. 

Flashes of their night together flooded her mind. The way he held her close. The way he touched her, lighting a fire in not only her body but her soul. For the first time in a long time, she felt alive in his arms. Safe. Wanted in a way she'd never been before. It was everything, and she closed her eyes to the prickling sensation welling in them. 

It wasn't as if they could go back, she reminded herself. After knowing what she knew now, she shouldn't want to go back.

There was no taking back the things he and his family had set in motion. Pulling her out of the helicopter didn't change that. But that knowledge did nothing but make her feel worse. A sense of grief washed over her for what might've been. 

It didn't matter, she told herself, willing herself to believe it.

Somewhere behind her, a door opened. Footsteps drew closer until a pair of brown hunting boots appeared at the edge of the dock beside her. 

"Couldn't sleep?" 

Rachel shook her head, neglecting to meet her eyes. 

"No," she said, her empty tone a stark contrast to the war of emotion in her mind. "You either?"

"Think I got a couple of hours. My Uncle said your concussion isn't gonna get any better until you sleep." 

She almost laughed. As if a concussion was the worst of her worries. Still...

"I know," she admitted. Of course, she knew that. But that didn't make it any easier to close her eyes when their faces were waiting for her to do so. Each time she tried, they were there waiting to remind her of her sins. 

'How many have you killed?...'

A patch of dark clouds lingered to the west, telling of the storm on its way. And if she believed in omens, then surely she'd considered it one. Because she knew nothing good would be coming her way. The best she could hope for would be to hold out long enough for reinforcements to come.

If they would come.  

Deep down, she knew she and the dozen or so others hiding out on Dutch's island wouldn't last long on their own. She knew; she just couldn't bring herself to say it out loud yet. 

"The others are ready to make a move on Fall's End."

Rachel didn't have to look, she could hear the question in her tone. Felt it in every glance from the others since they'd left the mill. Not that she could blame them for it. 

Even so, the weight of uncertainty in their stares wore heavy on her mind. 

"When do we leave?" she asked, doing her best to keep her annoyance in check. 

"An hour, if you're-"

"I'm fine," she said, cutting her off and getting to her feet. She marched in the direction of the bunker. Once inside the dimly lit space, she made her way down the long underground hallway, passing a pair of citizens whose curious eyes lingered as she passed. 

She ignored them, heading for the kitchen and stopping in the doorway when she caught the tail end of a conversation she likely wasn't meant to.

"...a terrible idea."

"They wouldn't shoot her," Dave said in a low voice. "They want her alive."

"There's a reason for that," Dutch told him, scooping a spoonful of instant coffee into two mugs. He shook his head, giving each one a stir. "And whatever it is, it ain't good. It's too risky."

"Look. We need her anyway, and they'll think twice about firing if they know she's with us."

"Are you really willing to bet someone's life on that?" Dutch asked, setting a mug down in front of Dave. The lines in his face ran deep with disappointment and skepticism. Then he noticed her, and his eyes widened as he met her gaze. "Deputy..."

Dave turned in his chair, and she could see the guilt splayed across his face. His lips parted, likely to issue some half-hearted apology.

"So, what's the plan?" she asked them before he could say anything. 

Dave looked down, his cheeks wearing a rosy shade of shame. Dutch hesitated but eventually relented. He pointed at the map sprawled across the table. The tip of his finger lingered on one of the buildings near the heart of Fall's End. "We'll start here." 

They took the fishing boats to the edge of the lake, docking at the ranger station in hopes of finding vehicles. What they found instead was a nearly empty set of buildings, the dirt road between them strewn with the remnants of having been looted. 

Jess stopped to pick up something off the ground. Turning it over, she was close enough to see the picture through the broken glass of the frame. Decorated in black and white ink, Dave, Jess, and two others she didn't recognize stood in front of the ranger station. Jess shook her head. 

"Fucking peggies," she said, throwing the broken picture to the side of the road. 

"It's worse in Fall's End," Dave said, and she could see the seriousness in his eyes. The fear. "They rolled in like the fucking military. Took everything in the name of the cult. Food, weapons,... fucking people." 

"The trailer park is close," Rachel said, wondering out loud if it would be any better. "We can try there." 

The world was quiet. An eerie calm settled over the forest around them as they walked along the lone paved road toward the park. Even the wildlife was quiet, making each wayward sound stand out tenfold. The hairs on her arms stood up, her skin prickling from the anticipation that kept her head on a swivel.

It was mid-morning when they made it. The sun rose over the park sign like a halo, illuminating the strung up and upside-down remains of what used to be Rachel's neighbor. Tied by his ankles, she barely recognized him from the blood that streaked across his face, having dripped down to a half-coagulated puddle on the dirt beneath him. 

But it was his abodomen that drew her attention, and her eyes widened at the open cavity spilling out to cover his chest with the gory remains of his insides. Pieces of intestine dangled, the breeze causing them to sway in a way that left her nauseous. A bird perched on an exposed rib, pecking inside the mess of him before flying away. 

The sound of vomiting erupted behind her, and if she had anything in her, she likely would have joined in. 

It was a fifteen-minute drive down to Fall's End. But each minute seemed like an eternity now that they headed toward the enemy again. The road to town was paved in utter silence. A quiet none of them were able to break after what they had seen. The tips of her fingers tapped anxiously against the bed of the truck as she tried to ready herself for what they were walking into. 

She studied the map, trying to memorize exit paths. But as hard as she tried to focus, she retained none of it. The street names might as well have been in another language as she failed to shake the dreadful image of her neighbor from her mind. 

'Do you even remember their faces?...'

Perhaps it was the exhaustion sinking in. At least, that's what she told herself. She likely wasn't properly hydrated either. And God only knew when her last real meal was. 

Without being able to sleep, the pain she was in had barely improved. The constant pulling of her thigh as she moved around didn't help, and she was grateful that Dutch had caved rather easily when she pressed him for more of the pills.

He seemed reluctant at first, the guilt in his expression giving him pause as he took in the state of her still-bandaged head. His gaze dropped to her thigh, and with a heavy sigh, she knew it was the desperation that won him over in the end. They needed her to fight, and if keeping her numb to the pain could help her do that, then so be it.

Rolling stretches of vacant farmland turned into boarded-up houses and shops as their convoy rode to the edge of the city limits. 

From there, they went on foot. They split into two teams. Rachel took point, leading her group as they searched the buildings on the right side of main street. Jess led the rest of them down the opposite side. 

The first two buildings were empty. But as they drew closer to the bar where Jerome and Mary were holed up with the last few citizens resisting the peggies, they made contact, and the ringing started. 

And it was immediately apparent that Dave had been right when the peggies spotted her during the shoot out at the general store. 

"The deputy is here!" one of them shouted into a walkie-talkie before a bullet pierced his neck, painting the wall behind him in crimson as he dropped to the floor still clutching his walkie-talkie. 

A response came through, but whatever was said was lost to the sounds of gunfire. After the general store, they moved on to the pet store, dispatching all the peggies they came across until their group merged with Jess and hers outside the bar. She swiped at the sweat across her forehead, her flannel sleeve now stained with blood that wasn't hers when she pulled back. 

'The weak always see themselves as heroes...'

Inhaling a shaky breath, she shook her head and shoved the thoughts away. This wasn't her fault, she reminded herself as she joined the others in removing the sheets of wood covering the windows and the barricade sealing the doors. 

They knew Jerome was alive, but seeing him, Mary, and the fifteen or so others that managed to hold out on their own was a victorious moment. The first true victory since this nightmare had begun. Yet, Rachel was unable to join them as they cheered. 

"There's still more of them out there," Jess said, sounding troubled as Mary pressed a wad of gauze against her bleeding arm. A stray bullet had grazed her, and although she'd bled through the first bandage, she likely wouldn't suffer any permanent damage. "A lot more."

"Too many," Dave agreed, "but I bet they'll think twice about attacking us now after this."

"Better late than never," Jerome said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Those cultists have been giving us hell for days. I'm just glad it's over for now. And thank you, Deputy. Fall's End isn't one hundred percent yet, but we can breathe a little easier. Thanks to you." 

She was about to respond when Dutch's voice came through her walkie-talkie.

"Kid, I know you're in the middle of somethin', but you're gonna want to hear this. I just made contact with the sheriff. He's holed up with a group at the county jail. From the sounds of it, they could use some backup." 

A wave of relief washed over her. Finally, some good news to cling to. She brought the walkie to her lips.

"I'm on my way." 

"What?" 

Jess stared at her from the bar, her face a mix of concern and barely concealed pain, while Mary pushed a curved needle into her arm to stitch her wound. 

"He found Earl," she said, "I hav-"

"You can't leave," she said through gritted teeth. "Fall's End still needs you." 

"It's ok," Jerome said. "We have the numbers now, thanks to all of you. If the sheriff is in need," he met her eyes, "You need to go."

"Then I'll go with you," she pressed. But she was injured, and splitting from the group was already a major risk. The last thing Rachel needed was to watch someone else die. 

"I'll get there faster if I go alone," she decided, leaving the bar and everyone else behind.

Sliding into the driver's seat of the nearest truck, she turned the key in the ignition. The engine roared to life when a familiar voice came over the walkie-talkie sitting on the dash. 

"Hello, deputy."

Her body went stiff. Despite the rattling noise of the old truck, she'd know that voice anywhere. 

"Are you having fun? I hope so because playtime is over. The father has deemed now an appropriate time for you to confess."

She stared at the walkie, feeling a multitude of emotions wash over her. Fearful and angry thoughts swirled in her mind, fighting to take root.

"You will bathe in the waters of our lord. And when your body is clean, we will unburden your soul."

She grabbed the walkie-talkie off the dashboard, her lip curling as her anger reared. 

"Sin is pervasive, Deputy. It drives us to do... unspeakable acts. But I can help you. I can help you cleanse your sinful soul." 

"I'm not gonna do anything for you," she seethed, gripping the walkie so tight her fingers ached.

"Don't worry. You don't have to do a thing," he assured her, his tone a taunting mix of sinister and glee. "My people will come for you. They will bring you to me. Don't fight it. Because the harder you resist, the harder we will have to scrub your soul-" 

She switched it off. Unable to bear the unsettling sound of his threats anymore, she tossed the walkie from the window, pulled the shift knob in drive and sped away. 

Half an hour later, she was making her way through the winding country road. The spedometer hovered at sixty, and miles of empty forest lined both sides of the pavement when her truck hit something she didn't see. 

She gripped the wheel, holding onto it as if her life depended on it. The vehicle swayed, losing speed so quick she lurched forward, slamming painfully into the seatbelt. The force of the impact knocked the breath from her lungs.  

When the truck finally came to a stop, she stumbled out. Half dizzy with adrenaline and nausea, she leaned against the door to catch her breath, palms flat against the warm metal. Her heart was still pounding, the vein in her neck pulsing like a rattlesnake's tail, when she caught the reflection of metal in the corner of her vision. She looked down, finding the strip of barbed wire wrapped around the front tire, thick and unnatural spikes digging into the material.  

She was startled, her body jerking as she was struck by something. She looked at her shoulder, half expecting to see blood, but was surprised when there was only a clear liquid instead.

The world around her softened as she reached for the wound. Rubbing her thumb across the tips of her fingers, she stared at the strange liquid resembling something akin to the inside of a paintball. 

White spots danced across her vision, and she swayed. Gripping the truck for support, she leaned against it, her limbs feeling heavier. A voice came over the walkie-talkie on her belt, but she couldn't make out the garbled stretch of words over the thick blanket of haze filling her mind. 

Then she was on her knees, holding her heavy head in her hands as her vision went dark. 
 
It was as if she were looking at the world from the end of a tunnel. Voices were muffled, somehow sounding too close and too far away. 

Dark and blurry visions filled her mind. Ones that made no sense. Laying in a field of flowers, the afternoon waned. The soft sound of rushing water lulled her, and she was lost. 

In her next vision, she floated. No, she was being carried. Dragged across the ground. Then there was water. Around her, within her. Her throat constricted as she choked on it. 

"We must wash away our past.... We must expose our sins."

No.

Her arms were lead as they held her down. As he held her down. White spots turned to dark ones, and just when she thought she might slip away, they pulled her up. 

"We must atone," John said as she coughed, spewing the mouthfuls of lakewater she'd been forced to ingest. When she looked up, he was waiting. "Now."

In a single moment of clarity, her anger reared, and she spat. 

He reached for the curve on his cheek, wiping the spittle away with a sneer. 

"On second thought," he said, eyes narrowing into a hateful glare. A sardonic laugh passed his lips. "You need more cleansing."

The next thing she registered was that she was underwater again. Thick hands wrapped around her neck. Then he squeezed. In a panic, she clawed at him, desperate to make him stop. But her body was weak, and he couldn't be stopped. She knew it was over. 

He pulled her up.

Her strength was gone, and she was forced to lean into him as he held her up while she choked. She sagged in his arms, painful coughs wracking her frame. As her breath returned, she looked up. Catching his gaze, she found cold satisfaction reflecting there.

He clicked his tongue. A pitiful sound that mocked her. 

"Do you mock the cleansing, John?"

His eyes widened at the sound of Joeseph's voice. Turning to look, Rachel could see him standing only a few feet away. 

"Bring her to me."

John obeyed, behaving as a child that had been scolded, he carried her over. Joeseph took her in his arms, supporting her weight and gazing at her with a mixture of awe and hesitation that confounded her. She stared at the strange expression he wore. Heard the tone that beseeched her to listen.

"You are not here by accident or by chance, Sister."

The palm of his hand cupped her face. Fingertips gingerly traced the bruise on her cheek in a touch so gentle she was sure she'd imagined it. 

"You are here by the grace of God, and you are not beyond salvation. You've been given a gift. Now it remains to be seen if you will choose to embrace it or cast it aside."

"She must atone," he said to John, his brow drawn in concern as he looked at his brother. He bent forward, touching his forehead to John's. "Or the gates of Eden will be lost to you." 

"Yes, Joeseph," he responded, watching him as he turned to walk away. Then he looked to her, and she could still see the anger simmering in his expression—the ice-cold venom in his eyes. Only now, they sparkled with a unique sense of determination. "Let's begin."