Kids pissed off their parents—that was just a fact of life.

Hawk traced the scar that ran down his cheek. Another fact was that children became their parents—and his father had been a monster. An abusive asshole.

That weakness was inside Hawk, just waiting for a chance to get out.

No, he wouldn’t—couldn’t—risk it.

Chapter Twenty-Six

The world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places. ~ Ernest Hemingway

“The Prophet is dead, Captain.”

“No.” Rage swept through Nabera, and he shouted into the phone. “No!”

In the house, the handful of loyal followers living there turned to stare at him.

It couldn’t be true. It mustn’t. He yanked in a breath and evened out his voice. “Tell me what happened.”

Ezekiel worked in the Texas State Capitol building in Austin and got the news about their leader before anyone else. “A bunch of convicts started a fight, and somehow, Reverend Parrish got knocked over. The guards broke the fight up and found him on the floor. He’d been shanked. Bad. He died on the way to the hospital.”

“Why would anyone hurt our prophet?” Nabera dropped onto a chair, grief a hard knot within him. He’d followed the Reverend since the day they met years ago.

“Captain.” There was a pause, then Ezekiel cleared his throat. “The guards found no witnesses, but they think…”

“Spit it out, damn you,” Nabera snapped.

“Two of the prisoners are brothers to a woman who was in our Texas compound. They might have, uh, had a grudge. Because of her. They were in the fight.”

“They did it.” Anger raged in Nabera.

“Nobody saw anything. But seems the reverend hadn’t annoyed anyone—not enough for a murder. So, yeah, one of the brothers probably stabbed him.”

“Because of a woman.” Once again, it was a cunt at the heart of their problems. It started when Obadiah brought Kirsten into their midst. Like a serpent, she’d poisoned everything around her.

Now another traitorous bitch had spread her lies. “Women are to blame for our Prophet’s death.”

“Our Reverend is dead?” Shocked voices rose, and within minutes, there was not only grief, but fear enough to thicken the air.

Nabera pulled himself together. Parrish would expect him to be decisive. “Thank you for letting me know, Ezekiel. Will you and our Texas Zealots be all right?”

“Eh, when the Reverend was arrested and the cops descended on the compound, we went to ground. And now…”

“What?”

“I’m done, Captain. I felt I owed you the call, but I’m out.”

How many of the faithful would feel the same?

Grief mingled with fury, and Nabera was glad he had the phone pressed tightly enough to his ear that no one in the room heard how the weakling was fleeing with the other rats. Jumping off a sinking ship.