After a blood-soaked escape from a black site in the Texas panhandle, the Firefly family disappeared into America's backwoods. They tore through small towns and state lines, leaving behind corpses and questions.
 
But in Florida, something changed. The air was too quiet. The fear didn’t feel like theirs. At a gutted compound near the coast—walls lined with security monitors, gold trim flecked with dried blood—they found evidence of someone else: untouched cigars, rally flags soaked in gasoline, and a roomful of dossiers marked with their names.
 
Then the TVs flickered on. One by one. Every screen showed the same thing: Donald J. Trump, watching them, smiling. “Welcome to Mar-a-Lago,” he said. “I’ve been expecting you.”