Page 57 of Beyond Redemption

My brothers all nodded in unison.

“I hear that, brother,” Whitmore said. “I’ve had tonight cleared with the wife for a week.”

We continued through the compound with Whitmore and Williams falling into step beside us, turning the walk into an unofficial tour that quickly became a highlight reel of Travis’s early weeks there. They recounted the time he tried to shower in his boots instead of asking for sandals, about how he once set off a compound-wide perimeter alert because he didn’t know that what he’d kicked out of curiosity was a motion sensor, and about the afternoon he somehow locked himself in the Longhouse bathroom and had to be rescued in just his skivvies. He’d also set a microwave on fire and clogged a toilet on his second day. By the time they finished, I wasn’t sure how he’d managed not to be the most hated person inside the compound, but it was clear Travis had earned respect here, not by charm but the hard way, through persistence, competence, and a remarkable ability to humiliate himself while learning the rules.

By the time we reached the central corridor, it was impossible to miss the shift in energy around us. Militia members didn’tsimply notice Travis as he walked past, they reacted to him. Every few steps, someone broke away from a work detail or abandoned whatever task they were in the middle of to greet him, shake his hand, clap his shoulder, or call his name across open spaces. One younger recruit froze mid-step, stared at Travis for several seconds, then blurted out, “Holy shit, it’s you,” before recovering enough to salute out of sheer panic.

Travis, however, laughed and waved it off like this was an everyday occurrence, but it wasn’t.

Once Abby produced the evidence that facilitated her father’s arrest—evidence that led to bigger fish—Travis was released as an asset from the Bureau. He co-owned IronE Gym in Eakins, Illinois with Agent Lachlan Kostas, fully aware Kostas had remained close and undercover to protect him, his family, Trenton, Camille, and now Oliver.

In truth, Travis had always been charismatic, and even easy to like if you weren’t on the wrong end of his fists. In Eakins, he was just Travis—known, familiar, the guy who’d help you move a couch one day and threaten to break your jaw if you disrespected his wife the next. He’d been asked to join the chamber of commerce, run for city council, and a drunk at The Red Door had even suggested he run for mayor.

Back home, that kind of recognition felt small-town predictable. This was different. Inside the compound, my little brother carried real weight, forged under pressure. That left me wondering if he’d done more for Naomi, Zeke, and the militia than what he’d included in his report.

Since arriving, the rest of us had been met with polite caution at best and wary curiosity at worst. People kept their distance, deciding whether we were temporary guests or potential liabilities. Travis, apparently, had already been cleared on every level that mattered. Here, he wasn’t just tolerated, he was trusted as one of their own.

We followed a few steps behind him like an unofficial entourage, trading glances as another group stopped him near the supply depot, their faces dusty and flushed from training. One of them reminded him of the time he’d tried to out-hike them in full kit and nearly passed out, another corrected that he’d actually collapsed face-first in the dirt, and Travis insisted he had only ‘strategically positioned himself in preparation to Army crawl,’ which earned another round of laughter before they waved us on.

A few minutes later, someone else thanked him for helping repair a generator during a freak storm. It went on like that, story after story, each one small on its own, but together forming a pattern that was impossible to ignore.

Trenton leaned closer to Tyler. “Abby should be here to witness this. It’s like he’s Jesus or somethin’.”

“I definitely wouldn’t believe it if I didn’t see it for myself,” Tyler muttered.

When we reached the main training field, the tone changed again. Dozens of recruits were running drills under the supervision of a woman standing at the front with her arms crossed, pacing as she looked over each enlistee. Her voice carried, without raising it, across the dust as she corrected mistakes. No one argued, no one slowed, and when she ordered them to reset, they did so instantly and started again.

As we got closer, I recognized the woman as Naomi.

Travis stared at her, in awe. He had seen her before when she was injured, exhausted, and barely holding herself together through willpower alone, but this version of her looked forged from something harder. Her hair was pulled back into a low, tiny ponytail, her uniform was immaculate despite the heat and sand, and her eyes tracked every movement with ruthless accuracy as she corrected stances, adjusted grips, and sent recruits back to the line without hesitation.

When she noticed Travis, the change was subtle. Her shoulders relaxed slightly, her expression softened before she turned to give brief instructions to the officer beside her and then walked toward us.

“Travis,” she said with a nod and a sparkle in her eye. “It’s been a while.”

“Hey, trouble,” he said, fake punching her arm like she was the little sister he’d never had.

She turned to me. “I trust everything in your residence is acceptable?”

“More than acceptable,” I said. “Thank you.”

Trenton rolled his eyes.

Naomi noticed but didn’t entertain his silent tantrum, turning to the twins. “Have you been by to see Zeke?”

Taylor and Tyler traded glances, then shook their heads. “We haven’t run into him yet,” Tyler admitted.

She pointed behind them. “The fire shack is in the southeastern sector. He’s been asking about you. You should stop by.”

“We’ll go right now,” Taylor promised.

Naomi nodded once. “Good. I have to get back. These kids aren’t going to train themselves.”

“That’s quite a group you’ve got,” I said. “Do you get this many often?”

“It varies,” she said, careful not to give away too much information.

She turned to glare at the twins again. “Straight to the shack. Don’t break his heart.”