Chapter 4

As Brody led me back, his radio crackled to life. It was one of his deputies. The voice was frantic, breathless.

"...multiple explosions... reports of gunfire... a small town called Harmony Creek... it' s been hit hard..."

Brody' s face went white. He looked at me, a flicker of doubt in his eyes for the first time. He grabbed the radio.

"This is Sheriff Brody. What' s the situation in Harmony Creek?"

"It' s a massacre, Sheriff! We' re getting a report from a hiker with a satellite phone. Said a biker gang, the Iron Vultures, overran the place. We' re rolling out now."

Brody dropped the radio. He stared at me, his mouth agape. He yanked me onto my horse and spurred his own, racing back toward my town.

When we arrived, the scene was one of utter devastation.

Smoke filled the air. The few stores that lined the main street were ransacked, their windows shattered.

And the bodies of the old men who had stood guard lay on the steps of the town hall. They had died trying to protect us.

Brody stumbled off his horse, his face a mask of horror.

He ran to the town hall, me trailing behind him, my hands still cuffed. The heavy steel door to the bank vault was blown clean off its hinges. It lay twisted and blackened on the basement floor.

The vault was empty.

All the women and children were gone.

"No," Brody whispered, his voice trembling. He fell to his knees, his eyes scanning the carnage. Then his gaze landed on me.

His shock curdled into pure, unadulterated rage.

"You!" he screamed, scrambling to his feet and storming toward me. "This is your fault! Caleb was right! You did this!"

"Brody, no, I tried to warn you!" I pleaded, tears streaming down my face.

He wasn' t listening. He was lost in his grief and guilt. He saw the dead, he saw the empty vault, and he saw the woman his best friend had told him was a monster.

"You' re a monster!" he roared, his face contorted.

He shoved me. Hard.

I was off-balance, my hands bound behind me. I couldn' t break my fall. I hit the dusty ground with a sickening thud, the impact jarring my entire body.

A searing, unbearable pain ripped through my abdomen. It was a cramp so violent it stole my breath.

I looked down.

A dark stain was spreading across the fabric of my jeans.

My baby.

The world tilted, the edges of my vision turning black. I lay on the ground, bleeding, the life draining out of me and my child, unable to do anything but watch as Brody stared down at me, his face a canvas of fury and horror.