Five veterans return to the woods to face what war left behind. But when one reveals a deadly secret, their brotherhood and their healing is put to the test. Can truth heal what betrayal nearly destroyed? Or will the fire they built together consume them all? The first Moultrie descended from Elias Moultrie, a freedman and blacksmith who settled in southern Virginia after the Civil War. Rumored to be a descendant of both African and Scottish ancestry, Elias carried a fierce sense of independence and the secret craftsmanship of fire. He built his home – what would later become Moultrie’s Lounge – out of hand – cut stone and scorched timber, left behind from Union raids. His motto: “Fire should build something, not just destroy.” The second Generation: The War and the Well Elias’s son, Obadiah Moultrie , served in World War I and returned a changed man – quiet, worn, but observant. He converted part of the home into a private room for Black veterans who had no place to speak about what they’d seen. No questions were asked. No names were shared. He dug a well behind the house , a symbolic offering to the idea that men could drink deep and speak truth. They called it “The Ember Room.” There were no drinks then – only water and silence. The Third Generation: Whiskey, Jazz and Secrets Obadiah’s grandson, Langston Moultrie , was the one who transformed the safe house into a lounge. After serving in Korea and losing his brother in combat, Langston turned to jazz and whiskey to make sense of what therapy could not. He rebuilt the back room, opened the doors and filled the space with vinyl records, cracked leather booths and dim lights. But he kept one rule: “No man leaves here without telling something true.” Moultrie’s Lounge became a legend among certain men – veterans, drifters, artists, broken souls. A place where truth had a tab and silence wasn’t shame – it was sacred.