Chapter 144: Chapter 144 - A Logo
Reya did not see the shift.
Did not feel the temperature drop.
She lifted both hands slightly, almost reverent.
"We are freeing them from the government," she said, voice steady but charged. "They are Satan’s pawns. They go against God’s message. They cage what He designed."
Iyisha felt her heartbeat stumble.
"Are you saying you’re going to attack Motherhold?" she asked, the word attack tasting bitter in her mouth.
Reya reached across the table and grabbed Iyisha’s hand.
The sudden contact made Iyisha flinch.
"Yes," Reya said.
No hesitation.
"And every gated community like it."
Marybeth’s chair scraped back slightly.
Reya leaned forward, eyes bright, fevered with certainty.
"We were not meant to survive behind walls," she continued. "We were meant to go through the apocalypse. To endure it. To rise from it."
Her breathing quickened.
"To become the chosen."
Then something flickered through her. The intensity drained just a fraction.
Marybeth sank back into the chair, as if the weight of her own conviction pressed down on her.
Marybeth stared at her like she was seeing a stranger.
"Oh God, Reya," she whispered.
Iyisha looked into Reya’s eyes.
There was no confusion there.
No doubt.
Only belief.
Belief so strong it felt immovable.
A heavy step sounded behind them.
Waldo.
He moved forward without a word and grabbed Reya’s shoulder, hard, turning her to face him.
His expression had changed completely.
"When," he asked, voice low and controlled, "do you plan to attack?"
Reya’s lips curved slightly.
"We’re preparing," she said. "Motherhold is evil. Those walls need to fall."
"No," Marybeth breathed, shaking her head. "No, no, no—"
Waldo’s grip tightened.
"How many?" he pressed. "How many of you?"
Reya looked at him with something close to pity.
"You won’t understand," she said softly. "You’re still afraid."
Malcolm stood now.
Not rushed.
Not loud.
Just present.
"Fear keeps people alive," he said evenly.
Reya glanced at him.
"Fear keeps people weak."
The words hung there.
Iyisha felt the room narrowing.
"This isn’t faith," she said quietly. "This is war."
Reya’s eyes sharpened again.
"It’s liberation."
Waldo leaned closer, voice barely above a whisper.
"Give me a date."
Reya held his stare.
Then she smiled.
"You’re too late to stop what’s coming."
Silence swallowed the room.
Waldo’s jaw flexed, a hard line forming beneath his skin as he tightened his grip on Reya’s arm.
She gasped when his fingers bit into her.
Marybeth rushed forward instantly. "Waldo, stop, you’re hurting her."
"Try me," Waldo said quietly, and the quiet made it worse.
His eyes did not leave Reya’s face.
"My wife with my child is inside Motherhold," he continued, voice low and unshaking. "And I will do anything to protect them."
The weight of that settled over the room.
"Wait," Iyisha said, stepping between them before the tension snapped completely.
She looked straight at Reya.
"What exactly are you planning to do to the kids?" she asked, confusion and anger tangled together. "What is the plan?"
Reya lifted her chin despite Waldo’s grip.
"Let them be," she said. "They need to survive the world the way it is. They need to face it. To be reborn through it."
She spoke like someone explaining something simple.
"They’ll thank us one day."
Iyisha felt disbelief rise in her throat.
"You’re fucking insane."
Marybeth’s hand was still wrapped around Waldo’s arm, trying to pull him back, her voice shaking.
"What do we do?" Iyisha asked under her breath, glancing between them.
For a split second her mind was no longer in the apartment.
She saw the children inside Motherhold.
Bright eyes. Small hands gripping pencils. Laughter echoing down clean corridors. Yes, it was structured. Yes, it was controlled. Strict schedules. Reinforced walls. Monitored movement.
But it was safe.
They were safe.
Fed. Taught. Protected from the teeth and rot outside.
And these people wanted to tear that down.
To drag children into danger and call it rebirth.
Iyisha felt something cold settle in her chest.
"Should we report this to Motherhold?" Iyisha asked, her voice tight with urgency.
"No," Waldo said immediately.
He released Reya’s arm but did not step away from her.
"I know people who can handle this."
"You can’t stop us," Reya snapped suddenly.
Then she drew breath and shouted, "Help—"
Malcolm moved before the sound carried.
He stepped behind her, twisted her arms just enough to control her, and pressed a strip of cloth hard across her mouth. His movements were clean, precise and left her no space for struggle.
Reya thrashed once, then Malcolm leaned close and whispered something against her ear.
Whatever he said drained the fight from her body.
Her eyes flicked toward Marybeth, and for the first time uncertainty slipped through the conviction.
Marybeth stood frozen, torn, watching the person she loved being restrained.
"Follow me," Waldo said, already heading for the door.
They stepped out into the dark.
The streets were quiet at this hour, shadows long and thick between buildings. They kept to the alleys, avoiding the main road, moving quickly but not running.
Iyisha’s thoughts raced faster than her feet.
Ahead, the perimeter fence rose into view, tall and reinforced, floodlights washing the metal in pale glare.
"The guards," Iyisha said softly as they approached. "The Chosen are inside Whitewater. What if some of them are working with them?"
Waldo did not hesitate.
"Whitewater will never allow that," he replied.
They stepped into the light.
"Turn around," a guard shouted from the tower. "Wait for clearance or we will shoot."
Rifles lifted.
Marybeth froze mid step.
Malcolm held Reya steady, one arm securing her while the cloth remained tight over her mouth.
Iyisha felt her pulse hammer in her ears.
Only Waldo kept walking.
He stopped directly beneath the floodlight and lifted his hands, not in surrender but in calm assertion. Then he reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it up.
Iyisha saw it clearly now.
The Whitewater emblem burned into his chest, the scar old and thick.
And beside it, marked just off center, a star carved into flesh.
