Copyright © 2020 by A.J. Rivers
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The Girl and the Secret Society
A.J. Rivers
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Staying In Touch With A.J.
Also by A.J. Rivers
Prologue
Four months ago …
Lilith would never forget those screams.
Loud, raw, ragged screams. The kind that cut deep and shivered along veins, turning blood to shattered glass and powder.
There was nothing weak in those screams. That was a distinction she could always make and would always hold onto. Sometimes screams are full of anguish and desperation, pleading for mercy. Or they burst out from the deepest recesses of fear.
But not these. These screams were primal. They ripped from the depths of her soul and lashed out for vengeance. They didn't ask for anything. They demanded. These were screams of a woman facing oncoming death with fury.
She clawed for survival. Fought for breaths that were rightfully hers. Even without words, those screams asked: how dare they? How dare these men do this to her? Who did they think they were, that they could treat her like this? That they could take her life from her?
Lilith knew who they were. She knew every one of their faces and the sounds of their voices. She knew the feeling of their breath on her skin.
And they knew the woman screaming. Who they cruelly dragged across the dirt by dark hair that used to hang glossy and inky black to her waist. Lilith knew. She'd seen it before. But now the woman’s once-prized hair was matted and tangled. Studded with broken plants and mud. Chunks of it were left behind as she thrashed and fought to make every last moment she could drain out of life matter.
But these moments were numbered. And dwindling.
There was nothing she could do. There was nothing Lilith could do.
She could only watch in horror and hope the men showed mercy even though the woman didn't ask for her suffering to end quickly.
Lilith couldn't stop it any more than the woman being dragged could. The dark-haired woman could keep fighting. She didn't have to make it easy on them, but that didn't mean it would stop them. Nothing would. And nothing would save her. It was no coincidence they brought her out here. They hadn’t just stumbled upon the cornfield, scattered with bent, dead stalks frozen in the February chill. No, this was done with purpose. Always with purpose.
By the time the ground would warm, and the days become long enough to plant the fields, there would be far less of her. A chill ran down Lilith's spine. She could already taste the dirt and blood in the air. The crops would grow up around her body, and no one would know. When the harvest came, she would be reduced to nothing. Scattered bones and nothing else. Overlooked by anyone who didn't know what he was looking at.
But Lilith would know. The ground would know. This woman wasn't the first to feed the roots of the growing corn.
It wasn't an accident that they were here. This was a killing ground.
Lilith wanted to look away. But something kept her eyes locked on the men as they pummeled the woman into the ground. She didn't go easily. She didn't bow down the way some of them did. Some readily dropped down to their knees among the corn stalks, as if they thought they could earn the compassion of the people forcing them there. As if following instructions would be their way out.
The dark-haired woman knew that wasn't the case. She had probably been told countless times to cooperate. To do what she was told, and that would give her the best chance of survival. But Lilith could see the woman knew there was no chance. Every bit of fight in her now was only to torment her tormentors. They would take her not because she offered herself up to them, but because they ripped her away.
Lilith wanted to look away. But she couldn't. She bore witness in the last moments of lives that shouldn't have come to an end here. It is always an honor and celebration to be present for the first breaths of a life. Those earliest moments are beautiful and humbling. But the last moments are often in shadow. She saw them as the same. First moments are humbling because of the creation of newness and potential. The last humble because of what they leave behind.
She bore witness to those moments, so the women were never forgotten. Even if their bones were never found, their names lost, their graves never dug, they existed. She made sure of it.
They never knew she was there. The brutality of what she saw had singed her soul black. But she wouldn't turn away.
No one should have to walk through the fire alone.
The woman let out another scream, but a heavy boot crushed the sound. Lilith bit down on her lip as she watched. The desperation was hers now. The woman lying in the dirt couldn't fight against the four sets of hands holding her down. Each kick made her struggle a little less. But it was the knife blade that finally stopped her. The tip plunged down into the soft place where her pulse raced and ripped between her collarbones down through her belly.
Then it was quiet.
The men were in no hurry to get away. They made no moves to bury her or even scatter the remnants of
