But I know.
We all know.
And we’re done playing by their rules.
The revolution starts today.
TWENTY-SEVEN
TALON
“Istill can’t believe this worked,” I mutter, straightening my bow tie as we approach the Willard Hotel’s main entrance. “Her father actually caved.”
Mara called her father this morning and gave him the ultimatum that the OCK officers get formal invitations tonight to the dinner, or she’d throw a very public, very embarrassing fit in front of every camera during the swear in.
She’s learning from the best, and I’ve never been more proud, or more terrified.
The three of us exit the car, and head up the steps into the hotel. Everything seems to be expected—Secret Service agents flanking the doors, metal detectors, and someone checking invitations.
The agent at the door examines our invitations and then nods us through. “Enjoy your evening, gentlemen.”
“Thank you,” I say.
Inside, the Willard’s ballroom is everything you’d expect from an exclusive inaugural dinner—crystal chandeliers, white tablecloths, enough flowers to bankrupt a small country, and waiters in crisp white jackets circulating with champagne andhors d’oeuvres. There’s even a string quartet playing something in the corner.
And everywhere I look... power.
Senators and cabinet members cluster in small groups, making deals that’ll shape the next four years. CEOs and donors laugh over private jokes.
“There’s my father,” I say quietly, spotting Senator Reed near the bar. He’s holding court with the Vice President and what looks like half of the Senate Armed Services Committee.
“Mine too.” Dredyn’s jaw tightens as he spots James Steele across the room, deep in conversation with someone I recognize as the new Secretary of Defense.
“We should split up—circulate separately. We’ll be less conspicuous that way,” Dredyn suggests.
“Agreed. But we stay in sight of each other. And of Mara, once she arrives.”
We drift apart, each taking a different section of the ballroom. I grab a champagne flute from a passing waiter and position myself near a column with sight lines to both main entrances.
That’s when I see him.
My father breaks away from his conversation with the Vice President and heads directly toward me.
“Talon. I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”
“The President put me on hisspecial guestslist.”
“He put you on the list because the President’s daughter threatened to cause a scene if he didn’t. Care to explain why Mara Black is so invested in your attendance?”
“We’re friends. From university.”
“Friends. Is that what we’re calling it?”
I meet his eyes steadily. “That’s exactly what we’re calling it. Is there a problem?”
He glances around the ballroom, checking who might be listening. “Several, actually. But this isn’t the time or place to discuss them.” He takes a slow sip of champagne. “Though I have to say, the photos were... enlightening.”
“Oh yeah? You saw them?”
