***
Senator Carly St. James’s office was everything you’d expect from a woman with enemies in three time zones and the ear of a standing President. The lobby was a refrigerated shrine to American power: glass walls, marble floors, the Stars and Stripes in a state of perpetual salute. The receptionist—a blur of lipstick and threat—directed me to the elevator with the smile of someone who could arrange a black bag rendition with a single email.
Upstairs, two men in earpieces scanned my ID and my bag, then ushered me down a corridor lined with photographs. I counted five Presidents, three Secretaries of Defense, and a dozen generals. In the background of one, blurry but unmistakable, was Damron, younger, jaw even harder than I remembered.
The senator’s inner office had its own gravity. High ceiling, flag at her back, a wall of windows overlooking the Sangre de Cristo mountains. The desk was a monolith—real wood, not the laminate I was used to—and she sat behind it with the posture of someone who expected the world to obey her or burn trying.
She stood as I entered. Taller than I’d thought, athletic, hair pulled back tight. Her suit was black, crisp enough to cut. She offered a hand, businesslike. I shook it, feeling the bones in her fingers and the calculation behind her eyes.
“Dr. Dalton,” she said. Her voice was tuned to the room, just enough volume to own the space but never overshoot. “Thank you for coming on such short notice.”
I nodded, sat when she gestured to the chair.
“You said it was urgent,” she prompted.
I took the watch from my pocket and set it on the desk, face down. “You know about the attack. But you don’t know everything about it.”
She didn’t blink. “Enlighten me.”
I did, in as few words as possible. “Russian asset extraction. They wanted Blue Spirit. They failed, but they won’t stop. The Feds think I’m compromised. They want me to testify against the man who saved my life.”
She arched a brow, just a millimeter. “The MC connection.”
I nodded. “Nitro. They’re painting him as the perpetrator.”
“And he isn’t.”
I slid the watch toward her. “Play the third file.”
She picked it up, turned it over, and navigated the menus with more dexterity than I expected. When Nitro’s voice crackled out, low and unvarnished—Get behind me, Doc. Now—she listened, eyes narrowing. She replayed it. Then she set the watch down, index finger tapping the band in a slow, lethal rhythm.
“This is good,” she said. “But it’s not enough to rewrite the narrative. The Bureau has a motive; so does your rescuer.”
I leaned in, lowered my voice to match her wavelength. “You know that my project isn’t just research. It’s operational. You know the implications if the wrong people get it. This isn’t about criminal liability. This is about national security.”
She steepled her hands, and for the first time, I saw something like uncertainty slip behind the eyes. “You’re not wrong. But the Justice Department is already in motion. I can’t just order them off the case.”
I took a breath, let it out slow. “I know about your husband. I know the history with the Scythes. I’m not here to threaten you. I’m here to make you an offer.”
The moment hung, brittle.
She didn’t look surprised. She looked tired, the way old warriors do when the war has moved on without them. “And the offer is?”
“Clear his name. Make it disappear. I’ll testify that he saved me. I’ll make the project unhackable. You get creditfor preventing a disaster and a campaign narrative about government overreach. Win-win.”
She smiled, a cold knife-edge of white. “You’ve thought this through.”
I shrugged. “It’s my job.”
She pressed a button on her phone. “Give me the number for the Deputy AG,” she said, then released it. She stood, walked to the window, and arms folded behind her back. “They’ll need corroboration. You have any witnesses?”
I shook my head. “Just a dead Russian and a lot of broken glass.”
She nodded, still staring at the mountains. “That’s sometimes all it takes.”
She turned back to me, eyes flat as obsidian. “You understand this will not make you many friends in the Bureau.”
“I don’t have friends,” I said.
