Page 52 of Shadows of Recovery

Tristan felt a mix of anger and unease. "So we’re dealing with a group that’s not only dangerous but has the legal protections to operate with impunity. How do we fight that?"

"We’re working on it," Alex replied. "We’re coordinating with federal authorities and the tribal council, but it’s a delicate situation. The Eldon Sect has embedded themselves deeply within the community, and any wrong move could escalate things beyond our control."

Tristan pushed up from his seat. “Let me know when you are going to arrest the bastard. I need to worry about Sophie.” He opened the door with a bang and marched out of the room.

* * *

Morning brokeover the quiet expanse of Eldon Falls, the sunlight piercing through the trees and casting long shadows across the snow-covered ground. Damon sat in his living room, a mix of anticipation filling him. His thoughts were interrupted by a sharp knock at the door.

Nathan, his oldest brother, stood there, his face stern. "Dad wants to see you—now."

Damon nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. He closed the door behind him, bracing himself for what was to come.

Arriving at his father's home, Damon was greeted by his mother with a hug. It was a hug only a mother could give, full of unconditional love despite the circumstances. But it offered little comfort as he saw his five brothers waiting, their expressions ranging from concern to anger.

They entered Trace's bedroom together. The patriarch of the Whitlock family rested in a recliner, his frail body dependent on an oxygen tank. Trace’s eyes, however, were as sharp and piercing as ever, and they glared at Damon with a mix of disappointment and fury.

Trace's weak voice cut through the tension. "We had a visit during your expedition. An Agent Hayes. What a surprise. Damn it, Damon, what were you thinking? And five of our folks are now in their custody."

Caleb, one of the middle brothers, frowned deeply. "You destroyed the hospital, mind you, one that was very good to Daddy. And they’re saying that sweet Dr. Everhart is near death."

Damon looked down, guilt and defiance warring within him. "The tribe and us need medical supplies for our clinic and... well, Dr. Everhart was disobedient."

Trace coughed and sputtered, the sound harsh and grating. "First, if you have any ideas of running the family when I kick the bucket, I must inform you that I have chosen Nathan. Your little expedition confirmed my decision earlier."

Nathan stood tall beside Trace, his face unreadable. Damon felt a pang of jealousy and resentment but knew better than to voice it now.

Trace's eyes narrowed further. "Now tell us what you managed to get and what really happened."

Damon took a deep breath. "We secured some medical supplies, but not as much as we hoped. The police presence was stronger than expected. We had to leave most of it behind."

"Most of it?" Nathan's voice was sharp. "Did you get anything at all that can help us?"

"The very essential items. But I… I underestimated the situation. Dr. Everhart... she fought back more than I expected. Things got out of hand."

Caleb shook his head in disgust. "Out of hand? Damon, you nearly killed her. Do you have any idea the repercussions of that? Not just for us, but for everyone associated with the family?"

Trace leaned forward as much as his frail body would allow. "Damon, you've brought nothing but trouble with your reckless actions. Do you understand what you've done?"

Damon's voice was low, barely audible. "I thought I was helping. I thought we needed those supplies."

"And at what cost?" Nathan interjected. "You've endangered our entire operation and brought unwanted attention from the feds."

Trace's breathing was labored, each word a struggle. "Nathan will be taking over the family. Your actions have made it clear you're not fit for leadership. You need to understand that this family doesn't run on brute force and reckless decisions. We survive through careful planning and community ties."

Damon clenched his fists, anger bubbling up inside him. "I was trying to help us."

Trace's gaze softened, a hint of sadness in his eyes. "Damon, I know you wanted to help. But your methods... they’re tearing us apart. If we lose the support of our community and the respect of our own people, we have nothing."

The room fell silent as Trace’s words hung in the air. Damon stood motionless.

Trace sighed deeply, the sound filled with both resignation and sorrow. "Eldon Falls will be missing five sons. Damon, they will be asking questions. We won't be able to bury that. The family will have to make an example out of you."

Damon's heart sank further. He knew the family had strict rules, and the consequences for breaking them were severe. But he had never imagined he, a member of the family, would be the one facing such a fate.

Trace's voice, though weak, carried the weight of finality. "I'm sorry, son, but this is how it will have to be."

The punishment for such grave mistakes in Eldon Falls was a ritual as old as the sect itself. It was designed not only to discipline but to serve as a warning to others. The entire community would gather in the central square, a place that usually hosted celebrations and communal gatherings. Today, it would witness a different kind of spectacle.

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