“Glad to see we’ve got your attention,” he says. “After all these years, who would’ve thought a dumb bitch would be our bargaining chip with the country’s greatest commander?”
Easy.
Take it fucking easy.
I keep silent and so does he, watching for my reaction, but I give him none. He turns to the men behind him and laughs. The others smirk back, as if to stay in his graces.
“No, no, I apologize for that,” he says, turning back to me and waving a nonchalant hand in the air. “She’s your woman, after all.” He takes the toothpick out of his mouth. “You did well finding me. I swear, I keep asking myself if maybe Salister isn’t testing you right now. He knows you’re great in combat and that you’ve got a brilliant mind. But how well you hunt, well, this is the first time we get to see it in action.”
“Is that what you want? A hunter?”
“Nah. We’ve got plenty of those. You know what we want.” He looks to the side, then back at me. “A place in your party. We had it with President Delaney, and then you stole it from us. It’s only fair that you give it back.”
The door opens behind me and the server comes in with a shaky tray, two glasses, and a bottle of whiskey. Mason and I stay quiet, watching him place the glasses in front of us. Quickly, he opens the bottle and pours two fingers’ worth of alcohol into each glass, staining the table with a few drops as he rushes to back away.
“I-If I can bring you anything else—”
“Leave the bottle. And get the fuck out,” Mason says, his eyes trained on me.
Before he has time to react, one of his men snatches the bottle from the server’s hand. He leaves as quickly as he appeared, not making another sound.
I ask, “Speaker of the House?”
He shakes his head slowly.
“Chief of Staff, then.”
Another shake of his head. I wrap my hand around my glass, scoffing as the answer dawns on me.
“You want one of your men as vice president.”
He shrugs. “It should’ve been Camelia—she would’ve been Salister’s first choice. But that bitch turned her back on us. To become… what? The First Lady?” He lets out a short laugh. “She’s never been more powerless than she is now.”
If only he knew how much power Camelia Thorne holds over the president of this country. Maddox would fall to his goddamn knees for her, but they don’t need to know that.
I take a sip of my drink. “I’m in charge of the military. What makes you think I have the power to appoint a new vice president?”
“Ah, come now, don’t play dumb. Everyone here knows you and Maddox work together.”
I lean back in my chair, watching him. “I need proof that she’s alive.”
He chuckles. The laugh is low, and it makes my anger flare stronger.
“She’s alive. She’s been asking for you, in fact—‘Rowan, Rowan, where is Rowan?’” he mocks in a high-pitched voice. “Don’t worry. She’s all yours when you get things done.”
She’s all mine now, you fucking rat.
His hand wraps around his own glass, bringing it up to his lips. I look away, frowning as I pretend to consider doing what he asked. “That won’t be enough. I need a video of her saying today’s date. Give me that, and I’ll convince Maddox to—”
His glass suddenly hits the table, empty and with his lip marks on the edges. He motions to the men behind him to fill it back up. “I don’t think you understand. This isn’t a negotiation. You asked me what I want, and I told you. Get it done, or don’t. Let’s see how much you actually want her back.”
I drum my fingers on the glass that’s still in my hand, looking into the void. Mason clears his throat, then puts the toothpick back in his mouth.
“Ah, isn’t this a nice sight? Rowan King, finally coming to terms with his place in the world. The EFW has been here for far longer than you’ve been alive. It was time you got a fucking taste of who we really—”
Cough.
Cough.
