Chapter 24

Y/n’s POV

The dark, smoke-filled bar had become one of my go-to places—and apparently it was the same for one of the cult leaders, Jack Harrington. I’d been coming here almost every night, blending in, observing, letting the crowd and the dim lights make me invisible.

It’d been three weeks since I landed in Oregon, and I was still figuring out how to actually infiltrate the group. I’d changed everything about myself— my clothes were older and thrifted, my laugh intentionally softer. I’d rehearsed a brittle backstory until it felt like memory: a messy divorce, a couple of dead-end jobs, a search for meaning. Small lies, but believable ones. The trick wasn’t to be different; it was to be ordinary enough that nobody worried about you.

Tonight, Jack was already there, a budweiser balanced between two of his fingers, watching Thursday Night Football on the small tv in the corner of the bar. I picked a stool a few seats down, ordered my usual, and let myself become engulfed in the atmosphere of a bunch of drunk locals yelling at a screen.

I felt Jacks eyes tracked on to me. When he spoke, his voice was casual enough to be benign. “You’ve got a kind face. You new around here?” He asked staring in my eyes.

I started to read Jack’s face—almost innocent, if you didn’t know what he was capable of. The faint smile lines around his mouth made him seem approachable, almost boyish, but there was calculation behind his eyes. He watched people the way predators watch a clearing, patient and curious.

“Something like that,” I said, giving a small shrug. “Been bouncing around for a while. Figured I’d see what Oregon has to offer.”

Jack smirked, lifting his beer in a lazy salute. “Not much except rain, bad football, and worse roads.”

I let out a soft laugh—just the right amount of warmth to seem genuine. “Guess I’ll fit right in, then.”

That earned a small chuckle from him. He turned back to the TV for a moment, then glanced at me again, as if debating whether I was worth the effort. “You come here a lot?”

“Every now and then,” I lied easily. “It’s quiet. No one bothers you here.”

He nodded slowly, taking another sip. Then his eyes dipped—just for a second—down to the right side of my hip, where the curve of a concealed holster made the fabric sit a little different.

“I’m Jack.” He offered a handshake.

“Lucy.” I said shaking his hand. This was the first time I had to use my cover name.

“Pleasure to meet your acquaintance, Lucy” Jack smiled before taking another sip.

My breath stayed steady. I’d known that wearing a weapon in a town like this was a risk, but there was no way I was going in unarmed. Strauss had been explicit—survive first. Be ready always. The trick was to make it look like part of the person I’d invented, not a tactical anomaly.

Jack’s smile didn’t change; it tilted, curious now. “You carry?” he asked, casual, like he was asking if I liked coffee black or with cream.

I let a slow, careless laugh out. “Yeah. Old habits. Worked security for a while—never walked without something.” Simple, unthreatening, and true enough for the cover.

He nodded, eyes studying me a beat longer. “Love a girl who can defend herself.” A smile crept out.

I’ve never felt so uncomfortable in my life. I was sitting in an unknown town, in a dim, smoke-stained bar, with a man whose smile didn’t quite reach his eyes—a man I knew was capable of far worse than casual flirting.

I forced a faint smirk, the kind meant to pass for shy amusement. “Guess it saves me the trouble of waiting on anyone else to do it,” I said, swirling what was left of my drink.

He chuckled, low and easy, but there was something measured behind it. Jack Harrington wasn’t just watching me—he was assessing, testing the edges of who I was pretending to be. I could practically feel him peeling back layers, searching for the cracks in my story.

“Smart woman,” he said finally, leaning in just enough that I caught the faint scent of bourbon on his breath. “Most people come here to disappear. You? You seem like someone who’s waiting for something.”

My pulse ticked faster, but I didn’t let it show. I shrugged, glancing toward the TV. “Maybe I am. Maybe I’m just tired of running in circles.”

He watched me for another long moment, then grinned like he’d found what he wanted. He slid me a business card with a faint sunrise printed behind the text — Children of the Dawn, followed by a phone number and an address for their “gathering hall.”

“Sunday,” he said again, tapping the bar once with two fingers before sliding off his stool. “You’ll fit in fine.”

I went home, the card still clutched between my fingers. For the past three weeks, I couldn’t stop thinking about JJ—her eyes, her smile, her voice. It was torture, this kind of distance. I’d memorized the sound of her laugh, the way she’d look at me like she saw me, not the agent or the mask.

JJ’s POV

We’d just gotten back from a case in Las Vegas—long flights, longer hours, and a case that had taken more out of me than I wanted to admit. The jet was quiet on the way home, the kind of heavy silence that settles after a case that hits too close. Everyone was tired, worn thin.

As soon as we landed and everyone went their separate ways, I lingered in the parking lot, sitting in my car with my hands on the wheel, staring out at nothing. The rational part of me knew it was pointless—she wasn’t there, hadn’t been for weeks—but logic didn’t stand a chance against the ache sitting in my chest.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I started the car and drove.

The streets were quiet, D.C. blanketed in that soft, late-night stillness. When I pulled up next her car, starting to collect dust, everything looked exactly the same, and that almost hurt more. The same streetlight flickering near the curb. The same curtain slightly drawn in her living room window. Like she could walk through that door at any moment and everything would fall back into place.

Almost a month.

A month without her—without even a hint of where she was or if she was okay. That silence was worse than any case file I’d ever read.

I put on her favorite show just to fill the space. Halfway through the opening credits, exhaustion dragged me under.

I woke up groggy, the blanket pulled over me. My phone buzzed on the coffee table—five missed calls from the team.

“Oh shit.” I muttered, rubbing my eyes.

Game night. Rossi’s. I’d completely forgotten.

Luckily, I was only fifteen minutes away. I grabbed my keys, locked the door behind me, and slipped the spare key back into my pocket before heading out.

As I drove, the apartment faded into the rearview mirror—but the ache didn’t.

I pulled into Rossi’s driveway in her car. Her music still played from the last time she drove it—same presets, same scent on the seats. It hit me harder than I expected.

Everyone was outside—Penelope’s laugh carried across the yard like it always did—but I didn’t go to them yet. I needed a minute to get my breathing under control.

Inside the house, it was quiet—just Emily in the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of wine. She didn’t turn around when she spoke.

“You drove her car.”

I froze.

I stepped in, hanging my coat on the chair. “Sorry. I… fell asleep.”

Emily didn’t say anything right away. She just studied me, her eyes softening, like she could see right through all the walls I’d put up. Finally, she set the bottle down, and her tone wasn’t judgmental—it was gentle.

“She’ll come back, JJ,” Emily said, stepping closer. “She loves you way too much. Even back when I knew her—when I was at Interpol and Y/N was still with the CIA—she has never looked this happy. Not once.”

I swallowed hard, a lump forming in my throat. The words settled around me like a warm weight, a reminder that Y/N wasn’t just safe… she had someone waiting for her who mattered more than anyone else ever had.

I nodded, letting myself breathe a little easier, feeling a fragile thread of hope pull taut in my chest.

I nodded, letting Emily’s words settle. “I just… I don’t know when I’ll see her again,” I admitted quietly, my hands gripping the edge of the counter.

Emily reached out, resting a hand gently on my shoulder. “I know it feels impossible right now,” she said softly, “but Y/N is strong. She’s trained for situations like this—mentally, physically, emotionally. And she’s fighting for you just as much as you’re waiting for her.”

I let out a shaky breath. “I just… I keep imagining all the worst-case scenarios. What if something goes wrong?”

Emily’s eyes softened further, her voice low and steady. “Then you hold onto what you know is true. She loves you. And love—real love—doesn’t just vanish. It drives people to keep going, even when everything else feels impossible.”

I felt a lump in my throat, a mix of relief and longing. “I miss her,” I admitted, the words barely above a whisper.

Emily squeezed my shoulder, a quiet reassurance. “And she misses you. You’ll see her again, JJ. You just have to hold on a little longer. Trust her. And trust the fact that she’s coming back.”

I wrapped my arms around Emily, holding her tight for a moment longer than necessary. The warmth of her reassurance seeped in, grounding me. “Thanks,” I murmured into her shoulder, my voice muffled. “I really needed that.”

Emily patted my back gently. “Anytime, JJ. Anytime.”

Y/N Pov

Sunday came quicker than I expected. Today was the day I would attend the Children of the Dawn’s gathering—a chance to finally immerse myself, gain trust, and observe. I ran through my cover story one last time as I got ready: quiet, unassuming, eager to belong. Every detail mattered, from the way I held my coffee cup to the subtle nods I gave to people I passed in the hall.

The trailer felt smaller than ever as I left, the dusty light filtering through the thin curtains. My heart hammered, anticipation mixing with nerves. This was the first real test of how deeply I could infiltrate the group without giving away who I truly was. Every step I took toward the van that would take me to the gathering reminded me that months of careful preparation were about to be put to the ultimate test.

I drove to the large compound. It was beautiful—strangely serene for a place that carried such secrecy and tension. The gardens were meticulously tended, the pathways lined with flowering shrubs and trees that swayed gently in the morning breeze. Sunlight glinted off the clean, white walls of the main building, and the air smelled faintly of herbs and incense.

Walking in the front door I was greeted by Jack.

“Hey kiddo,” Jack said, his voice casual, almost warm, like he was greeting an old friend rather than a newcomer he barely knew. His eyes lingered on me for a fraction longer than necessary, assessing, calculating. “Glad you could make it this morning.”

I forced a small smile, letting it feel natural. “Wouldn’t miss it,” I said, keeping my tone light, friendly. Every word, every inflection had to seem effortless—part of the act I’d been rehearsing for weeks.

Jack’s grin widened slightly. “Good. Follow me—let’s get you settled before the gathering starts.” He gestured down a hallway that smelled faintly of sandalwood and waxed wood.

I followed him, letting my eyes scan the hall subtly. The walls were adorned with tapestries, intricate patterns woven in golds and deep reds. The air smelled faintly of incense, sweet and sharp all at once. It was the kind of place that tried to feel ancient, spiritual, and welcoming—but I couldn’t let that fool me.

Jack led me into a room filled with people in pews, almost exactly like Waco. Some whispered softly to one another, others simply sat with closed eyes, meditating or muttering prayers. The energy here was different-charged, expectant, a strange mix of devotion and anger.

“Everyone, this is someone new,” Jack announced casually, gesturing toward me. “Lucy is joining us today. Make her feel welcome.”

A few heads turned my way, eyes curious but not hostile. Some gave nods, others just stared for a beat too long, and I reminded myself not to flinch. I offered a small, friendly smile.

Jack leaned closer as I sat on a cushion near the back. “Stick close to me,” he murmured. “And remember, observe more than you participate. They’ll watch everything you do.”

I nodded, my stomach twisting. This was it. The three weeks of preparation, rehearsals, false stories, and careful lies—all coming down to this single morning. I had to blend in, earn their trust, and survive. And somewhere deep in the back of my mind, no matter how much I tried to push it away, JJ’s face haunted me—her smile, her touch, the promise that I’d come back.

Jack nodded toward the center of the circle, his tone casual but with a hint of authority. “Come on, Lucy. Time to meet the people who actually run this place.”

I followed him, careful to keep my expression neutral. The leader of the Children of the Dawn sat cross-legged on a raised platform, draped in flowing robes that shimmered in the dim light. His eyes were sharp, piercing, and they flicked over me with a calm intensity that made my pulse spike.

“This is Elias Thorne,” Jack said smoothly, gesturing toward the man. “He’s… the visionary here. And this is Mara,” Jack continued, pointing to a woman seated just beside Elias, her posture poised and confident. “She handles the logistics, keeps everything running. You’ll want to remember her face.”

Elias gave a slow nod, his expression unreadable. “Welcome,” he said simply, voice deep and steady. “We’re always looking for new seekers.”

Mara’s gaze was sharper, appraising me with the precision of someone used to judging people in an instant. “And we like to know who walks through our doors,” she added, a slight smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Jack leaned closer, murmuring in my ear, “Stay alert. Watch how they interact, how they test people. And keep that front—confident, steady. You’ve got this.”

I nodded subtly, letting a small, confident smile settle on my face. Jack stepped back, leaving me standing in front of the two key figures of the cult. My heart still raced, but my posture, my gaze, my voice—everything screamed that I belonged here. Observe. Adapt. Survive. But do it like I owned the room.

“So Lucy, what are your goals… your aspirations?” Mara’s eyes were like daggers.

I knew what she was doing. She was trying to see past the surface, testing whether I had cracks she could exploit. I met her gaze evenly, letting none of my nerves show.

“I want to help people,” I said, my voice calm and assured. “I’ve always believed in building communities, guiding others toward something better. That’s what drew me here.”

Mara’s eyes narrowed slightly, scanning me like a hawk circling prey. Jack leaned against the wall, giving me a small, approving nod.

Elias stepped forward, extending a hand, but he paused, his gaze locking on mine with a quiet intensity. “Lucy… do you commit fully to the path you’ve chosen here?”

I met his eyes steadily. “Yes. I’m here to learn, to serve, and to grow with the community.”

A slow smile spread across his face, almost imperceptible but genuine. He shook my hand firmly. “Good. I hope you are able to stay after the sermon. God has graced us with a powerful message today, and we leaders will be having a meeting afterward. I would like for you to join us.”

I inclined my head, hiding the flutter of nerves behind a composed expression. “Of course. I’d be honored.”

As the sermon began, I let my eyes sweep over the crowd, noting their expressions, their posture, their subtle reactions. Every word, every movement was a potential test.

The sermon ended with soft applause, and the followers began to shuffle toward the exits. I lingered near the front, letting the crowd disperse while keeping my posture relaxed, calm. Every step, every glance, mattered.

Elias approached first, his presence calm but commanding. “Lucy,” he said, voice smooth, “you carried yourself well today. You listened. That’s the first step toward understanding our path.”

I inclined my head respectfully. “Thank you, Elias. Your words were… inspiring.” I let the compliment land naturally, careful not to overdo it.

Mara appeared beside him, her eyes still sharp, assessing me. “Confidence and humility,” she murmured, more to herself than to me. Then she looked up, fixing me with her gaze. “Many people claim to want to help, to guide, but few can truly handle the discipline it requires. I will be watching, Lucy. Don’t disappoint me.”

I held her gaze steadily, unflinching. “I don’t intend to,” I said firmly. There was no edge of fear in my voice—only certainty. Confidence was my armor here.

Elias nodded slightly, as if to reinforce Mara’s point. “Good. After the meeting with the leaders, we’ll discuss opportunities for you to take part in our outreach programs. That will be your next step.”

I allowed myself a small, controlled smile. “I look forward to it.”

Jack, who had been standing quietly nearby, clapped me lightly on the shoulder. “See? Piece of cake,” he murmured, giving me a wink that felt more like encouragement than camaraderie.

As they walked ahead toward the smaller, private meeting room, I followed at a respectful distance, absorbing every detail—the way Mara carried herself, the subtle gestures Elias made as he spoke to the other leaders, the flow of respect and authority that pulsed through the group.

“Our new friend, Lucy has joined us today. Although this is our first day meeting her, brother Jack thought she would be an essential member of our team and I’m starting to agree.”

Elias clasped his hands behind his back and began pacing slowly. “We’ve grown significantly these last few months… which means we must be smarter. More selective. More disciplined.”

Mara leaned forward in her chair. “Our outreach isn’t enough anymore. We can’t keep relying on donations. If we want to expand, we need control. Real control.”

I kept my expression neutral, listening. Jack remained across the room, quiet but watchful—almost like he was waiting to see how I’d react.

Elias paused near the window. “There’s a shipment coming through Oakridge in two weeks. Pharmaceuticals. Unmarked. Cash value in the millions. We intercept it, we fund every project we dream of.”

My heart thudded, but Lucy didn’t flinch. Instead, I leaned forward just slightly, brows furrowing. “And who handles that?”

Mara’s gaze sharpened—testing again. “We do. The faithful. The ones who believe enough to act. Are you the type to act, Lucy?”

I held her stare evenly. “I’m here because I’m tired of talking about change. I want to build it.” A pause—calculated. “Whatever that requires.”

Elias smiled—small, satisfied. “Good. Then you’ll shadow Jack this week. Learn our structure. Our rules. And when the time comes…” His eyes settled on me, heavy with meaning.

“…you’ll help carry the weight of this mission.”

Jack finally spoke, voice low. “We move quietly. Smart. No mistakes. And we don’t take in anyone we can’t trust.”