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“This is the vital information.” Eyes racing across the screen, Anarchy’s face twisted into a mask of disgust. “By 1950, they were fully established in the compound, with a whole new set of rules. Basically, sifting through all the misogynistic shit, men are kings and women are nothing but chattel. They operate using a council of elders… blah, blah, blah… yeah, this is some weirdHandmaid’s Talefuckery right here.”

She was numb, Tamsyn thought. From the top of her head to her cold, wet toes, she was numb. All her secrets, her dark past, were coming tumbling down around her, leaving her nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

“Oh, I love it when they advertise their bad guys. Twelve council members, each stemming back from the original founding members. Just as equally, I hate being right.” Spinning the laptop around so they could all see the screen, she sighed. “Jedidiah Drake. Bad guy numero uno.”

A photograph filled the screen. Her father’s eyes glared at the world from behind the glass, disapproving and stern. It was an old photo; he was at least thirty years younger, and the woman standing to attention by his side was long dead.

Saliva pooled in her mouth, but before she could prevent it, her stomach muscles contracted and she threw up violently.

“I’d say that’s confirmation,” Jasper said in an ominous tone.

“Can you get that photo to Grit, Anarchy? In fact, any photos identifying these assholes. If they show up here, the security teams need to know who they’re dealing with.” Merrick made soft, soothing noises as Tamsyn’s stomach continued to rebel. “Easy, little owl. Try and take a breath. We’re not going to let them near you, I promise.”

“Already compiling a file to email to him.”

“She’s the woman’s double. Got some attributes from her father, too.”

Exhausted, Tamsyn tried to stagger back, but Merrick just lifted her into his arms. “I’m gonna go take care of her. Whatever else you need from her will have to wait. I’ll call housekeeping to deal with the mess.”

Jasper grunted. “I might as well make myself useful while Archie works. She’ll be here for hours now she has her teeth into this. I’m used to piss and vomit, Merrick, we have three kids with a fourth on the way. I’m a fucking pro at the fine art of cleaning up.”

“Thanks.”

“Consider persuading her to find her voice. The more we know about how these men operate, the safer we can make her. Archie is a genius with tech, but she can’t hack a personal connection or the data in your girl’s head.”

Tamsyn rolled her face into Merrick’s shoulder as her head went light. If she talked, she’d lose her tongue before she lost her life. A woman’s loyalty was always dedicated to the community first; until she married, then it was sworn to her husband, who presented their mutual faithfulness to the elders.

She would uphold her oath to the community, not for her own safety, but to save Merrick from a similar fate. A man within the community who defiled an unmarried woman was hung by his wrists, castrated, and left for the crows on the ridge above the compound.

In all her years of eavesdropping and silently listening to her father’s discussions, not once was there any mention of what punishment an outsider would endure for the same crime—either the idea of someone from the outside ever finding them and committing such a deed hadn’t occurred to them or what happened to outsiders wasn’t talked about, ever.

Her guess was the latter.

The only way to keep a secret was for one person to know it.

“She’ll talk when she’s ready.” Merrick pressed his lips to the crown of her head. “Come on, little owl. A few minutes to get your bearings won’t harm anyone.”

She hated that he was carrying her, his arm touching her soiled pants. There wasn’t a level of embarrassment sufficient enough to cover the fact she not only peed herself, but compounded that mortification by losing her stomach contents as well.

Closing her eyes, she tried not to focus on the disastrous morning, or the sick fear that now Anarchy had pinpointed the community, Jedidiah would know exactly where she was hiding. Where to find her. How to steal her back.

The clock ticking down her time just got a whole lot shorter.

*

Merrick

He knew she wasn’t asleep, but he gave her the pretense anyway.

Sitting her on the counter beside the bathroom sink, he soaked a cloth in warm water and gently cleaned her face, starting at her hairline and working his way down until he reached the base of her throat. When her skin was spotless, he reached over and snagged her toothbrush from the holder, squirting a generous line of paste across the bristles.

“Gonna brush your own teeth or need me to do it for you?” he asked.

Eyes still closed, she parted her lips wide enough to slip the toothbrush in, then simply sighed miserably. Her cast rested against her lower belly; her right hand kneaded the damp material of her pants in what he recognized as a self-soothing motion.

She was in shock.

Maybe he would be, too, if he’d run from something horrific and believed no one would trace his path back to his origins. Honestly, he was impressed Anarchy had done so with what little she’d been given—minute reactions to innocuous questions, and the territory of fucking lynx, for fuck’s sake. But there was no denying she’d struck gold—Tamsyn was indeed the double of the woman in that photo and, yes, there were traces of her father in this pretty face.