Before Jed enlisted in the military at age eighteen, he’d aspired to become a pastor. In those naive, carefree days he’d only contemplated faith. Later, while serving as a Navy SEAL at the pointy tip of the spear, he’d measured his worth by the skillful and judicious application of firepower. But over the past several months, those two versions of himself—men he’d always viewed as distinct and separate people—had reunited to become one. The reunification process had not been easy, with both the operator and the man of God not fully trusting each other. Thankfully, he’d had plenty of help along the way, from his Joshua Bravo teammates, from the Shepherd commander Ben Morvant, and from an unlikely teacher—his “adopted niece” Sarah Beth Yarnell.

As he climbed into the driver’s seat of his Silverado High Country pickup truck, he made a conscious decision to jettison the emotional baggage he made a habit of carrying around. This afternoon was about living in the moment and having fun. Today would be the first time he’d visited Sarah Beth at St. George’s Academy, the special boarding school for children with the gift of second sight. The Watchers, as the children were known, functioned as the Shepherds’ eyes and ears in the invisible war raging around the globe for the hearts, minds, and souls of humanity. Where the Dark Ones spread chaos, hate, and death, the Shepherds and the Watchers battled tirelessly to stop them.

Jed piloted his pickup through Trinity Loop campus to the main entrance, where he nodded to the guard at the main gate on his way out. The sunglasses-wearing, no-nonsense security officer had grown on Jed over the past few months, and he couldn’t help but wonder if Sanderson might have what it took to be a Shepherd.

I’ll have to talk to Ben about that, he thought and made a mental note to bring it up the next time he saw Morvant.

After leaving the complex, he made his way to Sams Creek Road, where he headed south for eight miles to pick up State Route 70. As the crow flies, St. George’s Academy was just ten miles southwest of Trinity Loop, their proximity not accidental. In a spun-up helo, a quick-response security team from Trinity could probably get to the school in under five minutes. But for Jed in his pickup truck, the rural roads of Tennessee turned that ten-mile distance into twenty plus, all on roads with forty-five miles per hour speed limits. It would take him every bit of thirty-five minutes to make the trek—assuming he didn’t get stuck behind a combine en route.