Chapter 4: Brotherhood in Blood

I survived, but the horror followed me home. My hands shook as I locked myself in my townhouse, heart pounding. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the monstrous mouth devouring flesh.

When I finally calmed, I laid out the Secretary’s folders. The Civil War I thought I knew was gone—this was a fight for survival against monsters.

I summoned a staff member, offered coffee and pie, then asked lightly, “Do you think the Secretary’s death is a good thing?”

“Why, that’s the best news we’ve had in ages, sir. Everyone knows you’ve earned your shot.”

His words chilled me to the bone. I realized then that betrayal was the only currency left.

The folder said the truth was locked in Silver Hollow Hall—deep in enemy territory. I needed allies.

I thought first of Leonard Young, the last witness to the White Bluff trust.

With a coded letter and a midnight escape, I slipped out of Savannah. At every stop, I tested my men: those who laughed at the Secretary’s death were traitors; those who burned with anger were loyal.

To the loyal, I confessed my repentance and vowed to avenge the Secretary. We pricked our fingers, mixing blood over a battered whiskey glass. The old ritual felt like something out of a frontier legend.

On the third night, I killed the rest of the staff, staged a bandit attack, and rode north with my chosen brothers. I remembered my mother’s lullabies—how gentle the world once was—but survival left no room for softness.

I hurried on, desperate to reach Leonard Young before history repeated itself.