Chapter Twenty-Six

How was he going to unlock the cages? He could shoot off the lock, but that might bring Dalen. The entire house shook, creaked and groaned. Fear crept into his muscles, pulsing and gyrating, but he focused, forcing himself to remain calm. "Does he have a key? Does anyone know where it is?"

A blonde woman with almost her entire body covered in flowers sniffed. "It's in the drawer over there. By his recliner. With the remote."

What exactly did that remote do? He rushed to the table and pulled open the slender drawer. Inside was a remote control and a single key on a piece of twine. He grabbed it and headed back to her.

"What's your name?"

He'd burned the photos of the missing women into his memory. She had purple irises tattooed across her body. "Are you Iris Benington?"

She nodded.

"It's okay now. I'm Tiberius," he said soothingly. "He isn't going to hurt you anymore. We're going to help you."

"Thank you. I—I don't know how long I've been here."

"Over ten months, ma'am. I'm so sorry."

"Ten months...my mom. She had cancer when I was taken. Stage four breast cancer." Tears bloomed in her eyes. "Do you know... Is she...?"

A lump formed in Ty's throat as he recalled Violet's visit to the family. "Let's focus on getting out of here, okay?" His heart smashed into bits; Iris's mother passed away four months ago.

The lock clicked, and he opened the cage.

She reached her arm through, out into the open. To freedom. But then withdrew.

"It's okay, Iris. You don't have to stay in this prison anymore."

As Iris stepped from the cage, others perked up and began asking questions.

"Have you heard from my mom and dad?"

"How are we going to get out of here?"

"Help me!"

Tiberius moved to the next cage, the woman covering her breasts with one arm, the other hanging limp at an odd angle. When she made eye contact, he immediately recognized her.

Catherine Overly.

"Hi, Catherine. Let's get you home."

Sobs erupted. "I'm so sorry. I should have never—"

Ty touched her hand. "None of this is your fault. You did nothing wrong."

Panes of glass cracking and shattering drew his attention. Must be an outer window. He had to move faster. Find his family. Find Owen. Subdue Dalen and at this point ride it out in the safest part of the home possible.

He quickly unlocked her cage.

"Okay, all we need is—"

"Love?" a deep male voice asked.

Ty froze, light-headed, and discreetly pocketed the key.

"You'll need more than love to save you."

"Dalen." He pivoted and scrunched his eyebrows, confusion short-circuiting his thoughts.

Ty's hands tingled like pins and needles, and his heart lurched into his throat. He'd been under Ty's nose exactly like Ty suspected, like Violet had said. Inserting himself into the investigation and into their lives.

Dark, familiar eyes met his, although they no longer resembled those of a human being but a maniac locked into a dark fantasy, malevolent and drunk with power. In his left hand, he held a gun.

"Lysander," he breathed.

Lysander looked more cover model than monster. He'd been a good kid, helping Mom in the garden and drawing. Often coming to Ty for help with shading or angles. He'd only been fourteen when Ty left. What was this all about?

"You have a wife and a kid."

"Do I?" He cocked his head. "Do you know how many babies are floating around that house? A lot. You like this house?" He motioned around with his arm as if Ty was here to hang out for a barbecue. "It's a design I found in your room."

That's why it seemed familiar. Ty had sketched the design over twenty years ago.

"Not the garden, though. That's all my creative license." His gaze landed on Iris Benington frozen outside of her cage and Catherine up on her feet, her good hand on the unlocked door to freedom.

"I see you've met most of my garden girls."

"Where are Ahnah and Bexley and Josiah?"

"Drop your gun and slide it toward me." He pointed his own gun at one of his victims, then at the two who'd been freed. "Back inside now."

The women returned to their prisons. "Tiberius, I'll ask one more time politely, and then people are going to bleed. Would you be so kind as to drop your weapon and slide it over here?"

Lysander had already murdered too many and was capable of anything. Ty acquiesced, then raised his hands in surrender. "Where are they?"

The corners of Lysander's lips quirked. "All in good time."

"We don't have time. If your deranged brain hasn't figured it out by now, we're in the middle of a hurricane, and it's only growing stronger." Where was Owen? He should have made it to the second floor and to the open secret door leading to this room.

"I have enough time to do whatever I want, Tiberius. I brought you here. I have not only the upper hand but the only hand. Speaking of hands, I'd say sorry about breaking Cami's if I were. I'm not. What a piece of tail. Right? I know you had a taste of that in Barbados. Cami told me her whole life story. It's pathetic."

Ty ground his teeth but stood firm, refusing to bite the dangling bait and revealing no emotion. Lysander wanted emotion. Wanted to see Ty's suffering over the loss of Cami, wanted him to beg for his life and the lives of those he cared about. Wanted him to plead for mercy to spare these women.

They both knew he wouldn't spare a soul.

His brother had been clear he planned to destroy Tiberius. The only way to succeed was to take away Bexley and his son. He'd been outmatched and outwitted since the get-go. Now they were face-to-face and almost on equal footing. Ty didn't have a gun anymore, but he had Owen—an element of surprise if Lysander believed Ty came alone.

Where was O?

Could Ty overpower his baby brother?

"She was feisty. Didn't matter how much punishment I doled out, she kicked against the goads. It should do your heart good knowing she believed you'd come for her—that the team would come. She was aware of the press conference. Knew you were on the island searching. I imagine the knowledge that you were so close gave her hope and kept her fighting. In the end, you failed her. I made sure she knew that before I shoved the Xanax down her throat. Take comfort, though. I didn't let her die alone. I sat with her as she grew sleepy, and the last thing she heard was my voice telling her this was your fault. Taking her was consequence of your sin."

His sin? "What did I do to you? What sin did I commit? You were only a boy when I left."

His dark eyes grew black as night as he stepped closer, the gun trained on Ty's face. "You were going to take away the one thing I loved most in the world."

"Mom left a year before, Lysander. I didn't take our mom."

"No, you took Ahnah."

Ahnah.

This was revenge over Ahnah? How? "Lysander, I didn't take Ahnah. I was booted out with guards and gates. You were there. You saw it with your own eyes."

Lysander bared his teeth. "I overheard you and Bexley plotting to leave the Family with Ahnah. You were going to condemn her for eternity and leave me without her. I couldn't let that happen."

Jagged pieces of the past began to fit, but only the edges. "What did you do?" Had he been scheming even then?

"What needed to be done. I saw you bedding Bexley on more than one occasion, and I was going to be loyal to you because after you married her, I could ask for Ahnah and be betrothed until she turned sixteen and could marry me. I'd already been working on a plan for Garrick to marry so we could be free to marry as well, but you ruined it. I had to readjust. And I did. Garrick was easy to manipulate. All I had to do was feed him breadcrumbs and make him believe it was his idea to go to Father with what you'd done—and what you were planning to do."

Rand had known he was leaving the Family all along. That's why he disfellowshipped him. It would be easier to save face than have his congregation know his favorite son had left of his own free will. Otherwise, he would have forgiven him the indiscretion.

"Things didn't go according to plan, though, did they? Bexley ran anyway with Ahnah," Ty said.

"And all these years I thought she was dead."

"So did I, Lysander. I had nothing to do with that." Why was it still his fault?

"No, but you planted the idea in her to leave and to take Ahnah."

"Do you know the things Garrick did to Ahnah? She wasn't safe. If you loved her, wouldn't you want to protect her?"

"I was handling things!" Lysander bellowed. "Delicately," he added with more control. "He was the Lord's anointed, but he was still flesh and blood, and men have accidents."

He'd been planning to murder Garrick and make it look like an accident. Then Ty could ask for Bexley's hand, Ahnah would be free from Garrick's wickedness, and Lysander could be with Ahnah. Except Ahnah and Lysander had only been kids.

"Well, slitting him from ear to ear doesn't exactly look like an accident. But it does put you in position to take office after Rand dies. You going to kill him too?"

His eyes widened as if he didn't expect Ty to know Garrick was dead. "Why would I want someone else's kingdom when I can build my own? I simply need Father's company to fund it."

He wanted his own place where he could do whatever he wanted with whomever he wanted. The dots connected. Lysander had seen Skipper dump the body of Jenny Davis and used the ammunition to force Skipper into confessing in order to implicate businessman and rival land developer Patrick Swain. His own property was a short distance away. That was the ulterior motive, the puppet strings. Ty had done exactly what Lysander had wanted him to do. "You want Patrick Swain's land for this new kingdom." Lysander would rule here, and his followers would have property not far away, set up exactly like Rand arranged his own empire in the mountains.

Roaring sounded overhead. The glass ceiling was underneath solar panels—blocking out the view of the women from airplanes and drones. He could roll the panels away or keep them in place; either way, sunlight entered, growing his flowers and plants. Standing here, they could be impaled by shards at any second if the winds tore away the panels.

"Of course I want it. And guess who's selling it to me now that I've shown him what I can do if he doesn't cooperate?" He bowed as if he'd been applauded for a perfect performance.

"In scouting prime property, you stumbled upon Ahnah. You said it was Garrick's job—that he often traveled—but you lied. Like you lied about being married and having a son. I wouldn't suspect you."

It had worked.

"But Ahnah wasn't into you. Bexley had made it clear what the Family was—a cult that specialized in degrading women—and that made you angry. It was my fault, Bexley's, and even Garrick's that she didn't believe anymore. This is how you exact your revenge, even on Ahnah for rejecting you. No one rejects you. These women, like Cami, came here with you willingly."

Lysander still believed the doctrine of the Family, but he would add his own teachings and rules, which justified his sick need for collecting women. That sickness had nothing to do with his revenge plot, but he'd used it to his advantage to bring Tiberius to the island.

"Where are Ahnah, Bexley and Josiah? Where have you locked them away? Other hidden rooms?"

Lysander's nostrils flared, and a vein pulsed at his temple. "I gave these deflowered sluts a chance at rebirth. To give them back their purity that they willingly gave me and men before me. I offered them an open door to say no, but they said yes."

That's why they were in cages and Ahnah wasn't. She hadn't said yes. Hadn't come willingly. She could have been dead for the past week, her body buried in the marsh.

"They belong to me now. Purified and one flesh."

Ty gawked. "What happened to you? This...this isn't you."

Lysander laughed, hard and cold.

The monster raging on the outside demanded attention. Horrific tugging and tearing deafened them as a portion of the solar roof was wrested from the house and a pane of glass shattered to the tile, spraying the room. Women shrieked and glass dotted Ty's cheeks, leaving stings. He touched his face. His fingers were smeared with blood. Wind howled and swept through the room, rattling the cages as the women begged for help, for freedom.

"Lysander, we have to leave this room or all of us, including you, will die."

"You are going to die. You're right in saying that, you selfish vain fool." His mouth spread into a wicked grin. "And the beauty is, I'm not the one who's going to kill you. I will enjoy the show." He turned toward the hallway. "It's okay, bud. Come on in. Meet your dad."