Chapter 28 - Mara #2
My mother stands, smoothing her gown. “The car will take us to the National Gallery reception. Your father is expected to make an appearance.”
“Actually, I was planning to leave with some friends,” I say, standing as well.
Her eyes narrow. “What friends?”
“From the university. They’re here tonight.”
“Mara—”
“Mother, I’ve done everything you asked. I smiled for the cameras, I answered questions about Chase, I sat through dinner, and posed for photos and played the perfect daughter. I’d like to leave with my friends now, unless you’d prefer I make a scene about it.”
The threat is implicit but clear. After this morning’s ultimatum about the invitations, she knows I’m willing to follow through.
She glances at my father, who’s surrounded by cabinet members and clearly not paying attention to us.
“Fine. But you will be at the White House brunch tomorrow morning. Nine a.m. sharp. And you’ll wear something appropriate.”
“Of course.”
I don’t wait for her to change her mind. I grab my clutch and make my way across the ballroom toward where the boys are standing near the exit.
That’s when I see him.
A Secret Service agent, one I recognize from my father’s detail, approaching their table with purposeful strides. Behind him, two more agents.
No.
“Gentlemen, I’m going to need to see your identification and verify your presence on tonight’s guest list.”
“We have invitations,” Talon says smoothly, pulling the embossed card from his jacket.
“I’m aware, but there’s been a question raised about the validity of your attendance. If you’ll come with us, we can sort this out privately.”
“Sort what out? We were invited; we have the invitations. What’s the problem?” Dredyn asks, his voice raised.
“Sir, I’m going to ask you to lower your voice and come with us—”
“No.”
The word rings out through the ballroom like a gunshot.
Everyone within earshot turns to look. Conversations halt mid-sentence. Even the string quartet seems to pause.
And I realize the voice was mine.
“Is there a problem?” I ask, voice carrying across the sudden silence.
The lead agent turns to me, recognition and discomfort flashing across his face. “Miss Black, this doesn’t concern you—”
“These gentlemen are my guests,” I say clearly—loudly enough that the entire room can hear. “I specifically requested their presence tonight. So if there’s a question about the validity of their attendance, I suggest you take it up with me.”
“Miss Black, I have orders—”
“Orders from whom? Because my father is the President of the United States, and I can assure you he approved their attendance this morning. Furthermore,” I continue, positioning myself between the agents and the boys, “these men are officers of Omega Chi Kappa, a fraternity with deep ties to this administration. Dredyn Steele, son of James Steele, one of the President’s most trusted security advisors.
Talon Reed, son of Senator Michael Reed.
And Jasper Thorne, son of Anthony Thorne, whose technology contracts are integral to national security. ”
I’m name-dropping, using their fathers’ positions as shields, and I can see the calculation happening behind the agent’s eyes. Removing them now, in front of this audience, with this much attention, would create exactly the kind of incident I threatened this morning.
“So I’ll ask again, is there a problem with my guests?”
The agent’s jaw works. Behind him, I can see my father’s Chief of Staff frantically making his way through the crowd, clearly trying to contain this situation before it spirals further.
“No, Miss Black, no problem. Enjoy your evening,” the agent finally says. He steps back, and the other agents follow, disappearing into the crowd.
The moment they’re gone, I turn to the boys.
“We’re leaving,” I announce.
I don’t wait for their response, just turn on my heel and walk toward the exit, knowing they’ll follow.
And they do.
Dredyn falls into step on my right, Talon on my left, Jasper just behind—a formation that’s both protective and possessive. We move as one unit through the ballroom. Past tables of staring guests, past my mother’s horrified expression, past the cameras and phones all documenting our exit.
We push through the main doors and out into the January night. The cold hits like a slap, but I don’t stop walking until we’re down the steps and on the sidewalk, far enough from the hotel that we can breathe.
“Holy shit. You just publicly claimed us in front of the entire political establishment,” Talon says, sounding equal parts impressed and alarmed.
“Yes.”
“Your father is going to lose his mind,” Dredyn adds.
“Probably.”
“That was hot as fuck. But also possibly suicidal.”
“Definitely both.” I turn to face them, adrenaline still singing through my veins. “But I’m done hiding; I’m done pretending. They can’t make me marry Chase because Chase is dead, and they can’t make me choose someone else because I already chose. I chose you—all three of you.”
“Mara...” Talon starts.
“I know it’s dangerous. I know it paints a target on all of us. But standing in that ballroom, watching them try to remove you, pretending you don’t matter to me…” I shake my head. “I couldn’t do it. I won’t do it.”
“Then we’d better grab the car. Because in about thirty seconds, that ballroom is going to erupt and we need to be long gone before anyone can stop us.”
As if on cue, my phone starts buzzing.
Zane:
BABE. You’re trending on Twitter. #MaraBlack is number one.
I swipe it away and look up at the boys. “How fast can we get out of D.C.?”
“Rook’s got a car two blocks over. He can be here in five minutes,” Dredyn says
“Make it three,” I say. “I have a feeling we’re about to have company.”
Talon’s already shrugging out of his jacket, draping it over my shoulders against the cold. “Where are we going?”
“Home.”
A sleek, black SUV pulls up to the curb, Rook behind the wheel, engine running. We pile in, and he pulls away from the hotel before anyone can stop us.
As we drive through D.C., I pull out my phone and check Twitter.
Zane wasn’t kidding. #MaraBlack is trending, along with #OCK and #PresidentsRebellion.
The photos and videos are already everywhere. The captions range from supportive to scandalized.
“President’s daughter stands up for her friends—iconic”
“Mara Black publicly defies Secret Service to defend OCK officers”
“Is the First Daughter dating THREE fraternity brothers??”
“The President’s daughter just became my hero”
“This is the most chaotic political family drama I’ve ever witnessed”
And underneath it all, speculation. Questions. Theories about what this means, what we are to each other, and what happens next.
“You’re viral,” Talon says, reading over my shoulder.
“We’re all viral,” I correct, showing him a video of the four of us leaving—the way Dredyn’s hand rests protectively on my lower back. The way Talon walks close enough that our shoulders brush. The way Jasper positions himself behind us like a sentinel.
We look like what we are: together.
“Your father is going to be furious,” Dredyn says from the front seat.
“Let him be.” I lean back against Talon’s shoulder, exhaustion finally catching up to the adrenaline. “I’m done living my life based on his approval.”
“What about consequences?” Jasper signs.
“What can he do? Disown me? Lock me up again? Try to force another engagement?” I shake my head. “I’m not that girl anymore—the one who bends and breaks and does what she’s told. He created this version of me when he sold me to Chase, now he gets to live with her.”
Talon’s arm wraps around my shoulders, pulling me closer. “We’ve got you. Whatever comes next.”
“I know. That’s why I could do it.”
My phone buzzes again. This time it’s a call, not a text.
Dad
I stare at the screen for a long moment, then decline the call and power the phone off completely.
“Fuck. You just sent the President of the United States to voicemail,” Dredyn says.
“Technically, I just turned my phone off on the President of the United States.”
“Even better.”
The drive to the private airfield takes twenty minutes through empty D.C. streets. When we arrive, a sleek white jet sits on the tarmac, engines already warming up, stairs extended.
Jasper’s doing, clearly. His father’s company owns a fleet of corporate jets, and Jasper must have called in a favor—or more likely, just used his access without asking permission.
“Buckle up. Forty-five minutes and we’ll be home,” Talon says, guiding me into a seat.
Home. Indiana. The safehouse. Away from D.C. and cameras and my father’s reach.
I sink into the plush leather as the plane begins to taxi. Dredyn takes the seat beside me, Talon and Jasper across the aisle. The engines roar to life, and then we’re lifting off, leaving the Capitol behind us, rising above the city lights until they’re just scattered stars below.
“We really did it,” I say quietly, watching D.C. disappear beneath the clouds. “Declared war in front of the entire political establishment.”
“Yeah,” Dredyn agrees.
“No going back now,” Talon adds.
Jasper signs, “Wouldn’t go back even if we could.”
The plane levels off, and the pilot announces we’re free to move about the cabin, but none of us do. We just sit there in the humming silence, processing what we just did, what it means, and what comes next.