"Boo." Someone whispered into my ear, making me grab my gun and knock whoever was behind me down. I trained my gun on the person, but my eyes widened in shock when I realized who it was.

"Sean!" I helped him up before wrapping my arms around his neck. He let out a laugh and spun me around. "I need you to be honest with me. Who did you come for?" I posed to him.

"You, obviously." He kissed my cheek. "Where's Aaron though?" He scanned the room.

"Up in his office. Come on, I'll take you there." I led him up the stairs. "How's Georgetown Law? Is it too hard?" I posed to him.

"That's actually, uh, what I need to talk to you two about." He struggled out, making me furrow my brows before I knocked on the door.

"Come in." Aaron gave us permission.

"Guess who decided to visit us." I let Sean in and shut the door behind me.

"Sean, Suparna, hey." He greeted him. "Let me call you back." He hung up the phone. "Hey. This is a surprise. Haven't cut your hair since Thanksgiving." The two shook hands way too formally. Sadly, that's how Hotch is.

"That's what you said at Christmas." Sean played with the motorcycle helmet in his hands.

"Sorry." Aaron laughed for the first time since Christmas.

"How many times have I told you not to ride this thing? You're gonna hurt yourself, and I am just going to laugh at you." I took it out of his hands and set it down on a chair.

"Um...it's your first time here. Suparna and I can give you the tour." Aaron offered.

"Yeah, I can't stay long. I'm working the lunch shift." Sean declined.

"Not for long. Congratulations. You must be pretty excited." Aaron said to him.

"I cannot wait to celebrate." I clasped my hands together.

"I'm not going to Georgetown." He looked down at the floor.

"What?" Aaron's smile faltered.

"I changed my mind. I got this job offer to work at this restaurant in New York. It's not a chef, but it's under the right one. So I can learn from him. I've made up my mind." Sean explained.

"That's pretty, um, different." I stayed supportive.

"What are you talking about?" Aaron questioned him sternly. "Sean, you've always wanted to be a lawyer. Just like Dad, just like me, just like Suparna." He countered.

"And look what it got Dad, huh? Heart attack. 47." Sean retorted.

"I think I'm doing okay." Aaron looked around his office, making me roll my eyes. "Look, if it's about being in New York, NYU's got a great law school. Columbia. Fordham." He tried to convince our brother.

"Hey, if you go to Columbia, you'll be like me. I could even help you with the professors." I nudged his shoulder, but he was as solid as a rock.

"I don't think you two are even hearing me." Sean tried to lighten up the atmosphere, which was pretty tense at this point.

"All I'm asking you to do is think it through, you know? The logical thing is for you to go to Georgetown." Aaron raised his voice.

"I have to trust my instincts." Sean argued.

"Look, Sean, it's typical for someone who lost his father at a young age—" Aaron calmed down a bit.

"You know what? You're not him." Sean interrupted him.

"Come on, Sean. No one was trying to compare anyone to Dad." I looked up at them.

"Then why are you here?" Aaron sighed.

"That's a really good question." Sean stormed out of the office.

"Seriously, Aaron? He's an adult. I think he can make his own decisions." I loved my brothers to death, but they have such differing personalities that it's really annoying. "Sean!" I ran out the door.

"What? Are you going to side with him, too?" He looked back at me.

"I was defending you, Sean." Tears filled my eyes.

"All I'm saying is you're 25 years old—" Aaron managed to stay peaceful somehow.

"Do not profile me, Aaron." Sean pointed a finger at him. "And were you actually defending me? You don't know me, Suparna. You were adopted, for God's sake." He spat out venomously before leaving.

"You okay?" Aaron placed a hand on my shoulder, but I brushed him off.

"Leave me alone." I muttered to him. That's when I noticed JJ, Elle, and Garcia all gathered around Elle's desk. We headed into the conference room for a new case.

"Terra Mesa, New Mexico. Five dead, and all from Mesa University. No signs of sexual assault, and no sign of theft." JJ stated as she went around the table, passing out copies of the case file.

"Five nineteen–year–olds. Minimal defensive wounds. One of them was impaled by a six–foot wooden pole." Derek looked through the crime scene details.

"Who would want to torture five college freshmen?" Elle shook her head.

"Isn't college torture enough?" I sighed.

"They weren't tied up, and no one escape?" Derek and I locked eyes for a second.

"No single UnSub could have exerted this much control over so many people." Spencer spoke up.

"So you think there was more than two." Elle leaned her cheek against her hand and glanced back at Spencer, who nodded his head once.

"I think we're looking at a pack." Gideon slipped on his glasses.

"A pack?" JJ repeated confusingly.

"Three or more that kill in unison, as in, nature of the group dynamic, dictates the pack's survival is dependent on their ability to hunt successfully." Spencer defined.

"And as in nature, a pack will keep on killing until it runs out of prey or is stopped." Aaron added.

"Stopped by what?" Elle asked.

"A stronger pack." Gideon answered. We took the plane to the desert parts of New Mexico. Spencer, Aaron, and Gideon went to the crime scene. The others wanted me to go, but I refused to go anywhere with my brother. The rest of us headed to the PD to go through the victims' profiles. They came back with the Reservation police, and after discussing for a bit, we gave the officers our profile briefing.

"Each torture ritual had specific religious significance, but only to the tribe that practiced it. It's highly unlikely that any one tribe would mix them all together like this." Spencer dealt with the facts and history.

"Meaning?" An officer spoke up.

"Whoever did this obviously had knowledge of Native American culture, but they had absolutely know practical understanding for it." Spencer took a seat at one of the desks.

"What we know is that this pack shares a singular vision. Whether they share religious faith, racist ideology, or political manifesto, each member of this unit has surrendered its individual identity to the group." Derek added.

"It's the act of kidnapping that reveals the nature of this pack." Aaron continued.

"From the German red brigade to the Munich olympics to Iraqi insurgence. The act of kidnapping is a characteristic of political terrorist groups." Elle took over.

"We're possibly looking for a domestic terrorist organization such as the kidnapping of Patty Hearst by the Symbionese Liberation Army." I let them know.

"But these are Indians, right?" The same officer from before posed to us.

"I seriously doubt it." John Blackwolf, the Reservation police, spoke up. "The torture and mutilation you see here are very confused imitations of warfare practiced by Native American tribes."

"Are you trying to tell us that Indians wouldn't be so brutal?" The sheriffs and officers furrowed their brows.

"No. I'm saying that Indians wouldn't be so confused." He shook his head. We gathered into the head sheriff's office to talk about Blackwolf.

"Can we really be sure he's right?" The sheriff sat down in his chair.

"Well, I'm fairly certain Blackwolf wasn't in on it, but you don't need to be Einstein to realize these people were Indians or people that made it look like Indians." Gideon looked over at him.

"Why would anyone want to frame these Indians?" Elle questioned.

"Possibly to turn public opinion against them." JJ estimated. "Sheriff, you mentioned the Apache were fighting the land grab in court. Public opinion would be a significant factor." She justified her thoughts.

"Is there anyone besides the developers who might be vehemently opposed to the Indians getting the land back?" Aaron posed to the sheriff.

"The ADU." He looked up at my brother.

"Who's that?" Aaron inquired.

"American Defense Union. Founded by a local businessman named Roy Minton. They're like the minute men who control the borders, only these guys blame everything on the Indians." He defined.

"Know any of the members?" I placed my hands on my hips.

"Minton's people are mostly white, construction workers, building supply vendors." He listed out.

"Basically anyone who is racist or would benefit from the land." I assumed.

"Working class people believe the Indians are standing in the way of progress and commerce." He continued.

"Whether they feel the Indians are standing in the way of progress or profit, or they're just genuine racists, I thinks Minton and the ADU are strong suspects." JJ opinionated.

"Let's bring Minton." Aaron agreed. After Derek and Aaron talked to the guy, they came back to us.

"If Minton is as fanatical as he pretends to be, he wouldn't file lawsuits." Derek twirled a pen between his fingers.

"Or organize labor unions." Elle added.

"The Indians are keeping Minton and the members of the ADU from making a lot of money on the development and construction of the Apache land." Aaron crossed his arms over his chest.

"I agree." Gideon let out a sarcastic laugh. "He's using racist ideology to cover simple greed." He sighed. "Sheriff, I'd like you to put Minton under surveillance." He glanced over at the sheriff in request.

"You think he's guilty?" The sheriff scrunched his brows.

"Not likely, but we've just given Minton reason to believe that some faction of the ADU may have taken matter into their own hands, and Minton may lead us to them." Aaron detailed the plan. Then, a phone rang. After a couple of rings, everyone looked at me.

"Oh, that's me. It's probably Garcia." I glanced down at the Caller ID. "Would you look at that?" I smirked in victory as I picked up the call. "Got something for me?" I answered.

"I have an NCIC hit on one of the prints on the sliding glass door. Ingrid Griesen, nineteen years old, family moved her here two years ago from Texas where they require fingerprints for driver's license applications. She wasn't among the victims on the scene." She informed me.

"Great job, G." I hung up the phone. "I think we've got our sixth victim." I alerted the rest of them. Since I refused to go anywhere with Aaron, he headed to the Griesens' household with JJ, Elle, and Derek. As soon as the hotline went live with Ingrid's father, we got a call from the bastards themselves. They agreed to turn themselves in along with Ingrid, but apparently Mr. Griesen hired them to kidnap her. Elle and Aaron each took a guy while Gideon talked to the father. Derek, Spencer, and I headed to the hospital to meet with Ingrid. Just as we approached her door, my cellphone began to rang.

"Garcia." I glanced down at the name.

"We've got this." Spencer assured me.

"Are you guys sure?" I looked between them.

"Yeah, yeah." They nodded their heads.

"Be gentle, okay? Being kidnapped isn't a fun experience." I warned them, prompting them to give me concerning and worried looks. "Tell you later." I waved them off. "Talk to me, G." I pressed my phone against my ear. Derek and Spencer came out of her room a moment later.

"Ingrid isn't catatonic anymore, Hotch." Great. Derek's talking to my brother. "But she's answering every question with only her name and her social security number." He let him know.

"Prisoner of war." I looked up at him. "Hey, give me the phone." I extended my hand out to Derek, who handed me his cellphone. "Aaron, according to Garcia, Ingrid hasn't been enrolled in school for over a year now. But she had great grades. She just suddenly dropped out and vacated her apartment on campus. And there was no forwarding. We don't know where or how she's been leaving." I reiterated what Garcia had told me.

"Thanks." He said curtly before hanging up. That night, there was another killing. Same style, this time with a family of five that had three young girls. The team deduced that Ingrid had been a part of a cult that most likely had something to do with the killings.

"We're looking for the cult leader." Our profile started. "Typically men between he age of 25 and 35 with a high level of intelligence. Sociopathic underachiever, with an extremely abusive childhood. And obviously someone with an interest in and affinity for Apache culture and rituals." Spencer began with the basics.

"Look for males with criminal records for lesser type crimes. Drug possession, petty theft." Derek took over.

"What about school records?" JJ questioned. "The victims from the first crime scene was Terra Mesa University. Maybe the leader was there, too." She pointed out.

"Look for students who studied Native American cultures extensively." Elle built off of her statement.

"We need to do all of this. Considering the second strike, this could be the start of a spree." I finished just as Derek handed me a freshly–stirred cup of coffee. "Thank you." I blew on it before taking a sip. Blackwolf and Aaron took Ingrid to recent victims' house. That's when she gave them some information as to where our UnSub could be.

"The Deadlands are on the southern edge of the western track." Blackwolf pointed to a photo on the board. "You said cults like this seek out remote lands, yes?" He turned to the rest of us.

"They like to isolate their followers and give them freedom to create their own societies." Aaron confirmed.

"Okay, I got it." Derek hung up his cellphone.

"It doesn't get any more remote than the Deadlands." Blackwolf shook his head.

"How big an area is this place?" Derek questioned.

"About a hundred square miles." He estimated.

"We'll need to narrow it down." Gideon suggested.

"We might just have our cult leader." That got our attention. "It's a guy named Jackson Cally. He was expelled from TMU six months before the others." Derek stated.

"From what?" I glanced over at him.

"Drug possession, peyote. Terra Mesa was the last in a string of colleges. He studied religion and Native American culture in every school, and he was in a seminar in Native American culture with Ingrid Griesen." Derek basically summarized the info he got from Garcia.

"That's how they know so much about me. I've been a guest lecturer in that seminar for the past four years." Blackwolf mentioned to us.

"If Cally's our cult leader, we need more information on him. Have Garcia pull every shred of Cally's life out of the system." Aaron ordered Derek.

"She's already pulling it." He nodded his head.

"Do we know he's still in the area?" Aaron questioned.

"He was arrested for trespassing on a bunch of motel properties. Broking into unoccupied rooms. But his last known address turned up cold." He answered.

"Most cults don't have any legitimate means of paying rent. They tend to seek out abandoned, previously standing structures." Gideon let us know.

"Like Manson's Spahn Ranch." Aaron looked back at the board.

"There's an abandoned motel off Route 26. Right in the middle of Deadlands." Blackwolf mentioned.

"Guess we should check it out." I grabbed gun and got off of the desk along with Derek.

"I'll stay with Reid, and we'll pull as much as we can on Cally." Gideon called out to us. Unfortunately, my brother decided to come with me and Derek.

"Put on the goddamn vest, Suparna. I am not gonna tell you again." Aaron demanded strictly.

"Nothing's gonna happen if I don't wear it." I rolled my eyes but put it on anyways. As soon as we got to the motel, three police vehicles pulled up as well. Derek kicked down the door, and we stormed in. Once we cleared the rest of the area, Derek, Elle, and I went to where my brother was standing with Jackson Cally.

"Where are the others?" Aaron questioned him.

"Hunting." He replied. We headed outside once the cops got ahold of Cally. Aaron called Spencer to get an update on what they've researched about Cally.

"Simply another sad but unremarkable statistic. Aside from the fact that he had an IQ of 189." Spencer said.

"Any criminal record?" He questioned.

"At eighteen, he spent 22 months in prison for auto theft. I just spoke to the warden at the prison, said when he was there, he found religion and began preaching to his fellow inmates. And that he once convinced a mass murderer he was doing time with to beat to death any inmate that was threatening Cally." Spencer detailed.

"Ever since he was a child, this guy just survived on cunning, force of personality." Gideon piped up.

"Spent 22 months in the clink, was released, and then bounced from university to university. Studying, you guessed it, Native American cultures." Spencer continued.

"Okay, thanks." Aaron ended the call.

"What's his connection to the Apache?" Blackwolf posed to us.

"Aside from taking your class, nothing that they could find. With sociopaths like Cally, there is no connection. If it hadn't been Apache, he would've found another culture to attract and manipulate his followers." Aaron replied.

"Like Manson, Cally has been forced to become an expert profiler of sorts. He reads the people around him. Finds a way in. And then he brainwashes them to serve his needs." Derek explained.

"The only way to figure out his game is by playing it." I shrugged my shoulders.

"I'm gonna give him exactly what he wants." Aaron stared off into the distance.

"What's that?" Elle looked up at him.

"An audience." And he left our group. Inside the abandoned motel, we interrogated Cally. Blackwolf lost control of his anger when Cally called him and his father savage animals. To be honest, I wanted to do the same thing. Derek, Elle, and I took the bastard back to the sheriff's office. By the time we go to the school on the reservation, Aaron and Blackwolf were sitting outside with a few of the followers tied up.

"Oh, thank God." I ran up to Aaron and hugged him tightly. "I hate it when you and Sean." I muttered into his ear as he slowly wrapped his arms around my waist. That night after work, we went to the restaurant Sean works at. I tapped on the little bell.

"Be with you in a second." Sean had his back turned to us, not seeing us yet.

"Thanks." Aaron replied, making him glance back at us. Aaron set down a business card.

"What's this?" Sean questioned.

"Paul Morris. He's in the New York field office." Aaron answered. "If you ever need anything, give him a call. He'll take care of you." He detailed.

"This your way of saying I can't take care of myself?" Sean looked up at us.

"No, actually. It's his way of saying he's a stupid, stupid jackass." I spoke up.

"Yeah, well, it must be hereditary." Sean gave me an apologetic look.

"I know you didn't mean using my adoption against me." I reached over the counter and pinched his cheek. "I'm actually happy I'm adopted. Can you imagine looking like a female version of him?" I pointed back at Aaron.

"It's really important that you do this your way. You know, what you feel is as every bit important as what you think. Dad knew that. I forgot. You reminded me that, and...thanks." Aaron muttered.

"This is, uh, a pretty messed up going away present, you know that?" Sean joked.

"Siblings worry." Aaron shrugged his shoulders.

"You two need to get out of the office more." Sean teased us.

"Tell me about it." Aaron chuckled.

"You two can speak for yourselves. I've got a get together in an hour." I checked my watch. "But I can definitely squeeze in a bite to eat." I sat down on a barstool.

"How's the food?" Aaron joined me.

"It's pretty good." Sean smiled at us. "Let me fix you two something special. Want a beer?" He offered us.

"Do you even need to ask?" I scoffed, making the other two laugh. "But I will take a gigantic piece of that carrot cake." I pointed to the cake right next to us.

"Coming right up." He put in an order to the chef in the back. "Now, got any guys in your life, Suparna?" Sean leaned against the counter.

"Three." I held up three fingers. "You two. And another one." I answered.

"Better not be Morgan." The two said at the same time.

"You two could pass off as twins. But one clearly got the looks, and the other got...he's got something he isn't showing us." I nudged Aaron's arm.

"Still haven't rejected Morgan as a guess." Aaron pointed out.

"No comment." I pretended to zip my lips.

"Fine. No carrot cake." Sean challenged me.

"That's not fair! You can't do that to a woman, especially a hungry one." I pouted like a child, making Sean and Aaron roar in laughter.