Chapter 17 #2
Eleanor’s frown deepened, the weight of his words pulling at her composure.
The temperature in the room plummeted. Kevin went sheet-white.
McPherson’s gaze landed on Kevin, cold and cutting.
“So, you see, Mr. Hall. Not everything is black-and-white protocol. Not everything can be reduced to a checklist or a signed form. Sometimes, the measure of a citizen’s worth is in what she gives up for this country.
” Kevin’s lips parted, but McPherson’s voice rolled over him like artillery.
“Emily Shade saved Washington the embarrassment of an international incident. All she was due was a bit of respect.” His hand clenched once at his side, the only tell of the grief he still carried.
His eyes bored into Kevin, unrelenting. “She’s not a liability.
She’s a goddamned hero. You—” His lip curled, contempt raw.
“You are a self-important idiot who couldn’t read the alphabet, let alone recognize the importance of a single American citizen willing to stand up for her country. ”
Tex’s chest expanded, pride and fury still simmering. Brawler’s fists slowly uncurled, the raw edge of his rage tempered by the senator’s thunder.
Eleanor’s gaze locked onto Kevin, and her expression stripped of every trace of neutrality.
Kevin swallowed, visibly shrinking. For the first time, he realized just how deep a hole he’d dug. “I-I didn’t know.”
“You probably never thought to ask.” The silence hung like smoke after McPherson’s words.
“Get Ron Hanson in here. Now,” she said.
Kevin blinked, stammering. “Ma’am, I?—”
“Now.” Her tone cracked like a whip.
Kevin fumbled for his phone, his face ashen. When he managed a call, his voice shook, words tripping over themselves as he summoned legal counsel.
Minutes later, Ron Hanson appeared in the doorway, tall, composed, glasses perched low on his nose, a slim brief tucked under one arm.
He stopped short when he saw the tableau.
SEALs lined like an iron wall, Senator McPherson radiating judgment, Eleanor poised behind her desk, and Kevin sweating bullets.
“Madam Secretary?” Ron asked carefully.
Eleanor’s voice was cool, precise. “One of my aides threatened a civilian with treason after she risked her life to protect this nation. He compounded his mistake by dismissing the testimony of my operators, insulting an ambassador’s daughter, and ignoring the weight of a US Senator.
” She turned her gaze back to Kevin, ice in her eyes. “We will talk later, Kevin.”
Kevin’s throat worked, but no sound came. His clipboard slipped from his fingers, papers scattering across the carpet like ash.
She inclined her head toward Ron. “In the meantime, Ron, I’ll need NDAs drafted for a grad student’s committee, Emily Shade, so she can defend her dissertation. I want it on my desk within the hour.”
Ron adjusted his glasses, already pulling out his phone. “Yes, ma’am.”
The room shifted, the weight of decision slamming down like a gavel. Brawler and his brothers didn’t move, but satisfaction rippled through them like a silent current. He finally let out a breath, his voice low but absolute. “About damn time.”
Ron was already thumbing his phone, speaking in clipped, efficient tones as he began arranging what the secretary demanded. Eleanor leaned back against her desk, satisfied, her sharp gaze lingering on the team like she’d just unleashed them in the right direction.
That was when Brawler stepped forward. His massive frame filled the space, and for the first time since entering the room, his voice cut through, rough and absolute.
“There’s one more thing.” All eyes turned to him. “I need an address.”
Silence pressed down, thick and heavy. Eleanor’s brows lifted slightly, but she didn’t ask who. She didn’t need to. Every man in the room knew exactly who Brawler meant.
Ron’s mouth twitched, the barest ghost of a smile, and he jotted something down on the pad in front of him. “I think we can manage that.”
Brawler’s chest ached with something raw and fierce, relief threaded with impatience. He didn’t give a damn about protocols or NDAs. All that mattered was closing the distance between him and Emily, seeing her face, hearing from her own mouth if what they had in that jungle was real.
Tex glanced his way, gave the smallest of nods. Permission. Encouragement. Brotherhood.
Brawler’s fists unclenched. Finally. He was going to her.
Ron rattled off an address. “She’s a student at Columbia University. Top of her class.”
Of course she was, Brawler thought, pride tugging sharp in his chest. Doesn’t surprise me one damn bit.
Tex gave a short nod, scanning the room. “Time to go, boys.”
Maddy thoroughly kissed her husband, Senator McPherson smiled, and Shark’s father-in-law nodded at them all.
Then seven men turned as one, boots echoing against the polished floors as they strode out of the State Department.
Suits and aides pressed back against the walls, eyes wide as the operators cut a path straight through.
Tex walked away from the building, and Brawler felt the weight settle on him.
It wasn’t the kind of pressure you could see in his shoulders or his stride.
It was heavier than that, hanging low in his chest, thick in his silence.
His gruffness in the secretary’s office, his fury over Emily being treated like some kind of international threat, it was all just the shell around it.
Brawler had never thought much about Tex’s authority or how he carried the team. It was innate. Masterful. Respected without question. That was trust in the truest sense.
Just like the way Brawler felt Flash reaching for him from a distance he couldn’t catalog, couldn’t explain. He just…knew.
Most of the time when Tex was in this mood, when even Bondo couldn’t reach him, the team left him be. Respectful. Smart.
But Brawler couldn’t. Not this time.
“Mike,” he said.
Tex turned, sharp-eyed, the kind of look reserved for men who called him by his first name. “This must be serious,” he murmured. Every one of his brothers stopped too.
Brawler shifted his weight, rubbing the back of his neck.
“It’s about Flash. I want you to know…even though he’s absent right now, he’s fighting something.
I don’t understand it, and fuck it, I can’t explain it, but that fool, that trickster, that pain in the ass is winning.
When he comes back to us, and he will, he’ll be stronger for it. ”
Tex’s jaw worked, his eyes steady.
“This isn’t on you,” Brawler pressed. “It’s bigger than us, but it’s about us, too. About what it means to be…warriors.” He exhaled hard. “The echoes of his fight feel…dangerous. Epic. Inevitable. I don’t know how we’ll be called, but I feel like we will.”
Tex took a hard breath. His voice dropped.
“You’re such an asset to this team. I don’t say it enough, but your calm, your special skills…
they’re our gain. Thank you for telling me about Flash.
But I always knew that crazy bastard had depth he didn’t even know he possessed.
” His throat worked, the words rasping out rough.
“I can’t even…” He looked away, clearing his throat. “…imagine losing him.”
The guys murmured, looking at each other, and Brawler felt the warmth of their bond waving through them all.
When they made it to the vans, Tex turned, his tone dry. “Looks like we’re going to New York City.”
Brawler leaned against the doorframe, one corner of his mouth quirking. “Dibs on my playlist.”
A chorus of groans rolled through the team.
“Christ, no,” Shark muttered.
“Sweet Jesus, not again,” Twister groaned.
Even Tex pinched the bridge of his nose.
Brawler just grinned, sliding into the seat. For the first time since she’d been taken, he felt the pulse of anticipation instead of dread. They were going to her.
The black tide split again. Smoke and blood.
Flash stumbled into a field littered with bodies, the air thick with iron and gunpowder. The crash of cannon fire rattled his teeth. The stench of rot and sweat clawed at his nose.
Lines of men in blue and gray clashed, bayonets flashing, muskets firing, screams rising into the churn. Brother against brother. The republic turned against itself.
Flash’s stomach lurched. Christ. The Civil War. 1860s America ripped in two, nearly broken forever.
Then, through the haze, a tall figure appeared. Regal, gaunt, a stovepipe hat crowning his head. Lincoln. He stood above the chaos like a pillar carved from resolve itself, words thundering into the smoke.
“Chaos, you will not prevail here. You and your minions shall not take this nation. A house divided cannot stand but we will stand. We will bleed, we will break, but we will endure. By God, we will endure.”
Light flared from him, a glow Flash now recognized, the light of a guardian. It blazed through the battlefield, shoving the shadows back even as they slithered between the ranks, feeding hatred, stoking the slaughter.
Lincoln’s face turned toward him and shifted. Became…his dad. He swallowed hard, then Lincoln looked directly at him. “What are you fighting for, son?”
His heart clenched, his gut turned over. He fell to his knees. “Dad…I wanted to make a difference. You taught me that. You taught me that just because I’m one man, I can turn the tide, be the catalyst, do the impossible. Dad!”
“I’m so proud of you, Jae, my baby boy…trust in yourself…trust in your instincts. Feel the power of your past, the connection you have. Nothing can take that away. They walk among you, guardians, protectors, men and women who embody both the Veil and Reality. Shadowguard .”
Flash looked down at himself. Light flashed so bright, it hurt his eyes, and he folded to the ground, lost in his father’s words, lost in the meaning that was hammering at him. He wasn’t being forced…he was being…chosen. Could that be, or was he really going insane?