By morning the storm had lessened, but the world had not. Reports were now everywhere. Raids. Arrests. Sweeps through neighborhoods. Public statements framing the remaining Witnesses as dangerous holdouts against the new order of peace.

At the Morales home, a knock came just after daybreak.

Brother Morales moved to the window cautiously and frowned. “It’s an older man.”

Sasha stood at once.

She knew before she reached the door.

Jack.