She swallowed, trying to shake off the nauseating memories of the night he’d “cleansed” her—of the stink of his breath, the revulsion of his touch.

A shriek of glee broke into Kit’s memories, and she straightened.

In the corner, a little girl did a happy dance of victory at winning the children’s game. The child had overcome the habit of silence.

Kit’s hopes lifted. If the girl could do it, so could Aric.

“You wanted to tell us something?” Mary prompted.

“Oh, right.” Kit turned back to the woman. “The Zealots had their big bank account, but like with the food storage, they also stockpiled cash. In a cave.”

Eyes widened.

Miriam whispered, “I don’t suppose…”

“Yes. I retrieved the money from the cave.” Kit hauled in a breath. “I divided it up evenly between those of us here. Anyone who didn’t leave with us will have PZ support, so the money I have here is just for us. We shouldn’t tell anyone about it.”

“Or someone will take it.” Mary nodded her understanding. “Kit makes sense—and she took a risk in fetchin’ the money. So, no talking about where this money came from, agreed?”

To Kit’s relief, everyone nodded. PZ women knew how to keep secrets.

One-by-one, she handed over the flat packets of money, quietly so the children wouldn’t notice.

The money disappeared into the women’s clothing.

“Those were hundred-dollar bills,” Ellie whispered, her eyes still wide. “How much?”

“We each got a little over ten thousand.” Kit sat back in her chair, her tote bag now empty. “It’s enough for a start.”

Serena’s eyes filled. “You could have kept it. Instead, you shared.”

“Of course. We women have to stick together, right?” Because they had, even if silently.

Kit smiled at Serena. “When Obadiah broke my finger, you stacked the firewood in my arms so I wouldn’t have to pick it up.” Being damaged or ill wasn’t considered a reason to excuse a woman from working.

“When I burned the bread,” Serena nudged Mary, “you took the blame.”

“After Bryson left me so bruised I could barely move”—Ellie turned to Layla—“you abandoned your own chores to take on my job doing the laundry.”

There were smiles and misty eyes as they shared and remembered.

“We women stick together,” Kit repeated softly.

“Yes. That’s right.” Mary’s lips trembled, but she nodded firmly.

Mary had been married for thirty years. Her husband hadn’t given her a choice in joining the PZs and had refused to let her leave.

“Hey, we totally forgot. The staff put out drinks and snacks for us.” Layla rose. “Over on the table—”

A crash came from outside the room. Then a man’s shout, “Bitch, where are our women?”

Kit jumped to her feet at the sound of the voice from her worst nightmares. Her mouth went dry.