Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Julian Bennington looked through his long-range binoculars at the compound housing the Hopeful Sunshine cult in eastern California. This place looked a little better than some of the other ones they’d raided and disbanded. Surveillance drone photos had shown many huts dotted all over the place, along with a massive log house and what appeared to be a few smaller ones behind the main residence.

He was very familiar with how things in cults worked. The women would be in the huts, and the men would be in the fancier houses. If a woman were “lucky,” she would live in the house with the man. She’d have to share him though. He’d likely have two or three wives. Julian used that term loosely because there was nothing legal about those marriages. He should know. He’d seen enough of them when he’d been younger. Had almost had one himself, but by then, the rose-colored glasses he’d lived behind most of his life had been ripped off, and his eyes had been opened to just how wrong his life had been.

The defining moment, the one where everything had changed for him, had been when he’d seen a line of girls, young enough to be his daughters, all quivering and crying, as they waited to be chosen to become wives. He’d known it was wrong. So very wrong. In a split second of rage, he vowed to bring down the cult he’d grown up in, and he’d succeeded. But his actions had caused his sister to be drawn back in from the life she’d made after escaping. Guilt that he hadn’t protected her like a big brother should have still ate at him, even though Rose was happy, had found love again, and was living a full life.

He rubbed his leg over the scar from the bullet he’d taken for her. It hadn’t been enough because she’d still almost died.

Rose may have forgiven him, but he hadn’t forgiven himself and would spend the rest of his life trying to right the wrongs he’d been a part of.

“Is everyone in position?” Julian asked through the comms. He now worked with the FBI as a specialist on a task force designed to bust open sex trafficking rings and organizations like The Hopeful Sunshine.

Not only did they use agents on these missions, Julian had also reached out to a specialized security company whose members were all former military who still wanted to rid the world of assholes. The arrangement with Alliez Security had proven prosperous and having them involved made the takedowns a lot smoother. Not to mention, some of his operations were black ops, and the guys from Alliez were used to running similar ops, so they knew what they needed to do to get in and out with minimum disruption.

“Affirmative,” Brighton “Fox” Chambers responded. He was the Alliez team leader on this mission.

“A woman was just dragged into the main house by some fucker.” Porter “Hound” Hammond reported, his anger not hard to miss.

Julian gripped his binoculars a little tighter. He shouldn’t be surprised the women were being mistreated. Shit, he expected it. Not once had the roles been reversed, and the women were the ones in the position of power, and men were the lowly subjects. Having it confirmed, though, always cut him deep. Always reminded him of the time when he’d been in the room when a woman had been dragged in, and he’d done nothing but stand to the side and let it all unfold.

Things were different now.

He was different.

“Right, make sure when you get in there, her safety is a top priority.” Julian didn’t actually have to say that. He knew how the team worked. How they always made sure all the innocent parties involved were protected when shit hit the fan.

“That’s a given,” Hound said.

“It’s go time. Let’s get this done.” Julian gave the order and watched from his position as the team and other agents made their move.

There were times Julian wanted to get involved. Wanted to be part of the group that stormed the building, but he didn’t have the training or the necessary skills they all had. His strength was knowing the inner workings of cults. The set up, which didn’t seem to change from one organization to another. They were all surprisingly similar. Some differences existed, but he could usually identify the weaknesses after the weeks of observation they did before they began their planning to infiltrate and destroy.

He listened over the comms as Fox directed his team and the others around the compound until they’d reached the house. Normally, they’d do their raid in the evening to go in undetected, but this particular location was surrounded by trees, not to mention the various gardens being tended by the women.

Using all their training, Fox and his team—along with the few agents who provided back-up—surrounded the house without detection. Not many of the men acting as guards would be carrying weapons, but if they were, they wouldn’t pose a problem. Not to the men who’d been trained to work these types of situations.

“They’ve got this, Julian. Relax, everything is going well.” The female voice from the comms didn’t surprise Julian at all. Cassandra O’Reilly was the computer whiz who worked for Alliez, and she always tracked the missions the guys worked on. She would watch this one carefully, as her husband, Irish, was part of the team.

Julian adjusted the channel on his comms so he could speak to Cass and not disturb the guys going about their tasks. “I know. How’s it looking?”

At least with Cass overseeing things, he could know what was going on inside. The Alliez team wore tiny cameras in their vests that recorded everything. The FBI Agents had their own setup as well and together they had eyes everywhere, but he was never privy to what actually went down while it was happening. It was only after, in the debriefing sessions, that he got the full picture. Julian was sure the powers that be at the FBI had no idea of the information Cass gave him. Her skills were legendary, and there were times he went to her first to get what he needed before hitting up the FBI computer people.

“All good. They’re about to breach the back of the house. There’s a group of four in a large office. Three male and one female.”

“That would have to be the woman Hound saw get dragged in there.” It was on the tip of his tongue to ask if she was being mistreated, but he also didn’t want to know at the same time.

“Looks like they’re talking,” Cass said, as if she could see into Julian’s mind. And considering how often they’d worked together, maybe she did know his thought processes.

“Thanks.”

“They’re in.” Cass informed him, and Julian switched back the channel so he could hear the team.

The sound of a woman screaming over the top of the shouts from the team filled his ears. The sound of footsteps pounded on a wooden floor. Julian clenched his fists, wishing he could be there with them as the unmistakable thump of a body hitting the ground resounded.

Why was the urge to be boots on the ground with this particular raid so strong?

He hadn’t felt this way before. Was it because the similarities between Freedom and Love, the cult he’d grown up in, and this one, were too close for comfort? Maybe that was why he wanted to be there, to see the face of the asshole who ran it as the realization that his reign over the innocent people he’d lured into his sticky web was over.

“Stop! Leave me alone! Don’t touch me,” a woman screamed.

Julian closed his eyes, knowing the reason behind her cries—she’d been treated in the foulest of ways, and everyone was the enemy. Always out to hurt her.

“It’s okay. You’re okay. We’re not here to hurt you.” The voice belonged to Irish. “We’re here to help you. Get you out of here. Away from this asshole and all the other assholes in this place.”

Julian couldn’t hear any more as the rest of the agents who’d been waiting in the wings were now storming through the compound, and there was a lot of shouting for people to get on the ground.

It was time. Time for him to get in there and make sure that whatever papers Staunton Rello had in his possession were gathered up and put away safely. Anything he discovered that belonged to the members could be returned to them. In most cases, whoever ran the organization always took their identification, if they were carrying any, and anything else personal. It was all about control. If they had nothing of their own, they were easier to manipulate.

The leaders of cults weren’t stupid. They said all the right things that drew the people into their web of deceit, and once they were ensnared, escape was impossible.

Julian got up and dusted the dirt off his pants and got into the vehicle he’d parked out of sight and headed for the compound.

What would he find when he got there?

How downtrodden would the women be?

How arrogant would the men be? Most would’ve believed Staunton’s purple prose that they were untouchable and were above everyone else in the world. Hell, he’d thrived whenever the leader of Freedom and Love had given some bullshit speech that Julian had believed every word of.

He might think he was a better person than the current members of The Hopeful Sunshine, but at one time, he’d been as bad as them. That person still lurked deep in his soul. The need to seek out someone who would praise him until he believed his shit didn’t stink was a daily fight. He continued to battle those inner demons and remained victorious.

But some days…

Julian shook his head to dispel the thoughts. Once he parked the car, he closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing.

Was he really a better person? Or was he just brainwashing himself in a different way? A way that was as false as what he’d grown up believing?

“No, I am a better person,” he muttered to himself as he got out of the car. Now wasn’t the time to dwell on the intricacies of how his mind worked. He had a job to do, one he would do competently and efficiently.

Julian strode toward the house, noting the women being led toward one set of the buses the FBI had brought in. The men would be transported in another set of buses after the women and children were evacuated. No doubt some women would object to being separated from their “husbands” because it took them longer to leave the shackles of the cult behind.

Kayce “Deal” Simmonds was standing by the office door when Julian reached it. “All good?” he asked the former SEAL.

“As can be expected. The guy is a douche who thinks he’s a god. He spouted he was to be known as ‘The Great Sir Staunton.’ The guy’s delusional.” Disgust laced Deal’s voice, and Julian couldn’t blame him. The name was ridiculous, but not surprising. There were some who thought the most over-the-top name was the best way to get everyone to kowtow to whatever shit they were sprouting.

“That’s a different one, for sure. Is the room clear?” he asked, not really wanting to be exposed to the cult leader, but he would deal with him if he was still there. Sometimes Julian took perverse pride in them being present when he took back all the personal property and identification the leader had taken from their followers. It was like a “fuck you” to them that their control was being stripped away.

The door opened, and Irish stepped inside, his hand gently cupping the elbow of a woman. She wore a faded yellow smock, the sleeves long and the fabric at her knees grubby. She wore sandals that had seen better days.

Anger swirled in Julian at the way she hadn’t been given the decency to be able to bathe herself regularly. Nothing about places like The Hopeful Sunshine should surprise him, yet there was always something that had him shaking his head. Normally, women in organizations like the one they just raided allowed women to bathe regularly. What was different about this one? Right now, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was making sure the women and children were taken to safety.

Julian looked at the woman’s face, and his breath caught. He recognized her. Warmth stole through him as a rush of emotions—ones he’d only ever felt the first time he had looked at her— flooded him. He blinked, sure that he’d conjured her up because he’d been thinking about his former life.

It couldn’t possibly be her, could it?

“Lilith?”