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Unknown Location, Colorado

Matt was in and out of consciousness, but based on how his body felt, the twilight, and the sense of elevation, he figured they’d been on the road for four hours. He couldn’t see his watch because his hands were bound behind him.

He did an assessment of his injuries and didn’t think anything was broken. He definitely had a concussion—his head pounded and when he moved he became dizzy. He might have a cracked rib, and felt bruises everywhere.

He was cold, but it could be worse.

Thirty minutes after he was taken, the van pulled over. He heard another vehicle drive up behind them and stop. Voices were muffled, but there were at least four people. They took him from the van and put him in the back of a truck with a camper shell. That’s when they blindfolded and shackled him. But they also provided him with a sleeping bag and blankets. It took him a while as they bounced over rough terrain, but he managed to lie on a blanket to keep the metal floor from making him too cold, and the sleeping bag was thick enough to provide some heat, especially since he wasn’t dressed for the cold. He had on slacks and a button-down shirt with his lined FBI jacket.

Matt had to maintain his strength as best he could. He stretched as much as possible even though his wrists and ankles were chained. He listened for any identifying sounds, but heard little over the roar of the motor.

A change in terrain and speed told him they were approaching their destination. The truck kicked into four-wheel drive and bucked as it rolled over uneven, snow-topped terrain. He was tossed from side to side and at one point slid all the way to the front of the truck bed as they went down a steep incline.

Just when he thought he was going to puke, the ride smoothed out and he forced himself to breathe steadily.

Then they stopped.

The engine shut off.

He smelled wood smoke and fresh snow and something absolutely delicious cooking that made him hungry, even through his nausea. Voices, low and indistinct, murmured as if a crowd had formed. He tried to make out individual words, but it was a low din and his ears were still ringing from the long drive.

A moment later, the back of the camper shell opened. Two pairs of hands pulled him out and he fell to the ground. The shackles were removed from his ankles and he was pulled to stand. His knees buckled, but two people held him upright.

No one spoke directly to him, but he heard voices here and there.

It was near dark and the night was getting colder. The scent of damp pine overwhelming. He was forced to walk and snow slipped into his shoes, making him shiver.

About two hundred steps later, they stopped walking. He was pushed to his knees. He didn’t have the strength to try to rise.

“What have you done?” a female voice said.

“We did exactly what you said, Calliope. They had Riley too well guarded. So we grabbed one of theirs.”

“You brought him here ? No!”

They’d taken him to Havenwood?

“They can’t track him. He’s blindfolded. We’ll keep him in the prison until they make the exchange.”

“Whose idea was it to bring him here? To our home?”

Silence.

“No one wants to admit to their failure? I trusted you, all of you, and you bring a federal agent to Havenwood?”

“We’ll take him back,” a new voice said quietly, a man who had been with them but hadn’t spoken much.

“Too late for that,” Calliope said. “Put him in the prison. I’ll figure it out. But not one of you is welcome in my house tonight.”

Silence fell around them, then someone said, “Well, shit. Don’t look at me like that, Evan. You agreed.”

“No, I didn’t,” Evan, the soft-spoken man, said. “I just didn’t object because you wouldn’t have listened.”

“Riley has messed me up,” the other man said. “She’s alive. I just can’t believe it.” Mumbling, then the same man said, “It was a good plan. But we should have lit the place on fire for real, then she couldn’t have stayed inside. Marcus, help me take him to the pit.”

Matt was hauled up and half dragged a hundred feet. A door was opened and he smelled blood and vomit and death.

They took him downstairs into a room as cold as the outdoors.

“Anton, we need to restart this fire. If he freezes to death that’s not going to get Riley back.”

“Calliope isn’t going to let him leave,” Anton said. “But yeah, start the fire while I secure him.”

Matt’s hands were unchained, then reattached to a metal rod along the wall. He heard Marcus about ten feet away putting wood into a stove and crumbling paper. A minute later a faint warmth started to fill the small space.

Then without another word, they left.

Matt lost track of time, and may have fallen asleep or, more likely, passed out, but the room was almost warm when he heard the lock above him click. A minute later, two people walked down the stairs.

“Take off his blindfold,” Calliope said.

The blindfold was removed and Matt blinked rapidly. His vision was blurry, and there was only a dim light in the room and the glow from the fireplace. There were pictures tacked to the walls, but they were blurry and he couldn’t make them out.

He turned to Calliope. Even though his vision was unclear, he recognized her. She was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. Thick and bright red hair cascaded in curls down her back. Her face was smooth and fresh, unlined, with high cheekbones and large round blue eyes. She wore no makeup and had no blemishes. She was tall—nearly as tall as Matt—and curvy in a flowing dress with a white wool cape over her shoulders. She smiled. “I apologize for the treatment. My decision to put you in our prison was rash because your visit was unexpected.”

“You had a federal agent kidnapped,” he said.

As if he didn’t speak, she continued, “I have had time to think things through, and if you behave yourself, you may join the community for dinner. Anton will find you clean clothes and you can wash up. You have thirty minutes.”

“You’re not going to let me live,” he said.

She didn’t respond. “You can obey, have a meal, and sleep in a bed—or you can be difficult and rot in this prison all night. It makes no difference to me.”

Here, he was trapped. Out there, he might have a chance to escape.

“Very well, I will accept your generous offer.”

She smiled. “I am truly glad for that. Anton, see to him. Oh, and, Agent Costa? One step out of line, and you’ll be on your knees. Don’t test me.”

Anton unshackled Matt and pushed him up the stairs. They walked across the small village. It was freezing here, and he wasn’t dressed for the weather. But he went where Anton led him.

The village was...pretty. Pinpoint lights in the trees, ground lighting that rose above the snow. Small cabins that lined the path, some that were built up on the hill. It was a charming, quaint camp.

But he saw no one. He heard faint music, the clanking of dishes, the quiet clucks of chickens. He smelled hay and fresh snow and food.

His stomach growled.

But everyone was inside their cabins. No one watched as Anton brought Matt to the two-story house on the edge of a wide-open square with a huge ancient tree in the center. Benches had been built all around, as if they had meetings or plays here.

Anton brought him upstairs. “There is a washroom where you can clean up, clothing in the dresser. Someone will fetch you in fifteen minutes. I expect you clean and dressed for Calliope, or I will take you back to the pit.”

Anton left. The lock clicked in the door.

He was still a prisoner.

Matt listened and when he heard Anton go back downstairs, he thoroughly searched the room for anything he could use as a weapon.

The double bed was solid wood, hand carved. No screws or bolts. Beautiful craftsmanship, he thought. A dresser and rocking chair were the only other pieces of furniture. Again, handmade with no sharp edges, metal, or loose parts. He inspected every inch. He could remove a drawer, but it would be unwieldy to use, other than to maybe hit someone over the head as they were coming into the room. There was men’s clothing in the drawers—a handmade sweater, loose-fitting drawstring pants, underwear, thermals. He closed the drawer without changing.

Two sconces were bolted into the wall on either side of the lone window. He could break the glass and possibly use it as a weapon, but that would be dangerous for him as well with no guarantee that he’d be able to escape.

Especially since he had no idea where he was.

The bathroom had only a wash basin and toilet. They had running water here, which was pretty amazing considering they were in the middle of nowhere. They must have a well—likely, he thought, if the property had been partly developed when Athena and her husband moved here. But to support the entire town of more than a hundred people? Did they have an engineer in their midst? Or learn to do it themselves?

On a built-in ledge there was a flimsy travel toothbrush, tiny toothpaste, small bar of homemade soap, and hand towel. No mirror.

He washed his hands and face, wincing at the bolts of pain from cuts on his scalp. The water he rinsed off was pink, and as he dabbed the cuts, the cloth became covered in splotches of red, but nothing appeared to be bleeding heavily. He ran wet fingers through his hair, bit back a cry when they ran over a large bump on the back of his skull.

He could fight, but it wouldn’t be pretty, and a large man like Anton would take him down really quick in his current condition.

Matt could escape, but it was night and the temperatures would be in the twenties. Even though no snow was expected, he would freeze to death in these clothes. And he knew from Riley that there were cameras covering at least part of the property. He had no idea where they were or which direction to go. It would practically be suicide to walk into the mountains at night.

His only real option was to play along. Wait this out. His team would have a plan. They would find him—or he would try to escape.

Because there was no doubt in his mind that Calliope would never let him leave Havenwood alive.

Evan washed up, then sat in his room staring at the wall but not seeing anything. Calliope had told him to rest because he looked tired; he was tired. He’d only had a couple hours sleep each night over the last five weeks. Because of the dreams.

He had hoped being back in Havenwood would make him feel better. Havenwood was worth protecting. It was worth saving. Anyone who left was a risk to them.

Not Jane. Jane was a risk to no one. She was going to college and living a good life. It’s what you would have wanted for Timmy if he hadn’t been mauled to death.

He loved Calliope and loved Havenwood. He’d missed this place something fierce when he was Outside. All he could think about was coming home, taking care of his responsibilities. He had convinced himself that once he was back, all these doubts and pains would disappear.

Now that he was home, he realized they would never go away.

He had killed a bright star. He was hollow and empty inside.

Anton came to his door. “Evan?”

“Yes.”

He entered. “Calliope said you might be sleeping, but since you’re not, come to community dinner.”

“I’m really tired, Anton.”

“I’ll bring you a plate. I need you fresh tomorrow, so try to sleep.”

“Thank you.”

Anton left and Evan rose. When he heard the others head out, he, too, left. He walked down past the barn, past the greenhouse, to the small pasture behind the horse corral, where a row of crosses marked the dead.

Seventeen crosses for the people who had died over the thirty-six-year history of Havenwood. Many old, like Athena. Many young, like Timmy.

But more than seventeen people were dead. The others were buried far from here, in a field that bloomed with wildflowers every spring.

He knelt beside Timmy’s grave and silent tears fell to the earth.

Twenty minutes later, Matt was seated next to Calliope, who was at the head of one of three long tables, and across from Anton. It seemed that everyone in Havenwood was at dinner tonight. By Matt’s count, there were about ninety people, and at least twenty were under eighteen. There could be more—if Calliope had patrols, for example. Anton was here, but Evan was not. Matt overheard someone talking to Garrett. Riley had told Kara that Garrett had replaced her father who had been killed.

Garrett had been in the military. He had training. Matt couldn’t let his guard down.

People spoke quietly, politely. Food was brought out. Baskets of bread, plates of fresh vegetables, and tureens of what turned out to be beef stew—what Matt had smelled when he first arrived. His stomach churned in anticipation—he hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

Calliope explained, “We have family dinners once a week. A way for the community to bond. We’ve done it my entire life. Generally, we have the dinners on Saturday, but moved it up in anticipation of you, our guest.”

Matt said, “I’m not a guest—I’m a prisoner.”

She stared at him with hard eyes, even though she was smiling. “You can be a prisoner. Is that what you want?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Of course not. And you’re smart enough to know that if you walk away, you’ll be lost and die of exposure. You have no weapon, though you may think you can fight.” She leaned close to him and said quietly, “I put you in the prison so you’d know that it is there. If you go back, the fire will have died out. And I will not relight it.”

He believed her.

Calliope motioned for Anton to dish up a bowl for Matt. He noticed that everyone had forks and spoons, no knives. He could do damage with a fork, but not enough to escape. If he could sneak one out, he would, but it wouldn’t be worth getting caught.

Everyone appeared to be in good health. No one looked him directly in the eye, other than Calliope and a few of the people sitting at her end of the table. The kids were curious, and whispered among themselves. One young woman glanced at him with trepidation, then averted her eyes when he looked at her. Did she know something he didn’t?

“Eat,” Calliope said, staring at Matt.

He scooped up stew with his spoon, ate. It was delicious, and he said as much.

“We have a cooperative that works,” Calliope said with a wide smile. “Everyone does what they love and what they’re good at. We have a team, led by Gracie and Paul, who are in charge of our weekly family dinners. They could run a top restaurant Outside—” she flicked her wrist to indicate the rest of the world “—but providing and serving community is far more satisfying. We grow all our vegetables here, in a greenhouse. We raise our own livestock and poultry. To pay for anything we can’t produce ourselves—tools, gasoline for the generators—we sell crafted goods we make.

“Some people, including people in your government, don’t want anyone to be self-sufficient. They want us to be dependent. We have all shunned such dependency.”

“But they are dependent on you,” Matt said, taking a bite of bread. It was the best bread he’d ever tasted. A woman walked over and put another bread bowl in front of Calliope. The woman was missing her pinky finger. An accident?

“We are dependent on each other, and we support each other.”

“And if someone wants to leave, decides they want to try something new, you let them leave?”

“Why would anyone want to leave?”

He shrugged. “They’re sick and need medical attention. They become bored with a simple lifestyle. They want to travel, meet new people.”

Calliope frowned. She tapped her spoon to her glass and the chatting stopped. “Does anyone want to leave Havenwood?” she asked the group.

“No, Calliope,” the group said in unison. Okay, that was super creepy, Matt thought.

She smiled benevolently at the room, then turned to Matt. “There you go.”

He leaned toward her and said quietly so no one other than the few people at their end of the table could hear, “Don’t lie to me, Calliope. You don’t let people leave. They are trapped here. They might not see it, but they are. And when people do leave—when your sister gets them out—you hunt them down and kill them. Do these people know that?”

Her face reddened with anger, and she stood. The entire community put their utensils down and faced her.

“What is the punishment for betrayal?” she asked the group.

“Death,” the group answered in unison.

Calliope’s smile wasn’t warm or inviting when she sat back down. It was cruel and twisted. It was the Medusa that Riley had drawn. “Everyone here,” she said in a low voice, “knows exactly what the rules are and what is expected of them. They came here willingly, they stay willingly.”

“Because they want to live.”

“They want to live here . Havenwood is paradise. Those who leave are agitators who want to destroy what we have. Make no mistake, Mathias Costa. Everyone understands what’s at stake. And everyone here is willing to defend it.”

A chill ran down Matt’s spine as he looked out to the sea of faces and realized that if the FBI came in full force, there would be casualties.

He would do everything in his power to avoid that.