Page 11

“Hey, professor.” Candice calls to me from an armchair just inside the sitting room.

“Hey, what’s all this?” A hum of voices tells me the press is here.

“Big announcement, apparently. Your sister’s been playing this one close to the vest. Even I don’t know what it’s about.” Her disapproval is writ large across her face. “You better get a move on. I can hear her pacing up there.” She glances at the plaster ceiling overhead. “Talk her off the ledge.”

“Great.” I don’t roll my eyes, but I certainly would like to.

I hurry past the reception room, only a few of the reporters turning to glance at me as I almost sprint to the stairs leading up to the private residence. There’s zero chance I’ll speak with the press, though they’ve tried plenty of times in the past to get information from me. Little do they know, I’m awkward as all hell even when there isn’t a microphone shoved in my face.

Vince is at the top of the stairs, back straight, eyes narrowed, his stern gaze taking in everything below. “Juno’s in her room.” He hitches a thumb over his shoulder.

“Okay.” I pause. “So what’s the news conference for?”

He grimaces. “Nothing good.”

“Vague yet scary. Perfect. Totally par for the course.” I do roll my eyes this time and continue to Juno’s door where I enter without knocking.

She stops mid-pace and turns to me, her charcoal-gray skirt suit tailored perfectly to her tall frame.

“Wow. Did you hire hair and makeup?” I stare at her smooth brown skin and the perfect contouring that’s taken ten years off her age.

“Yes.” She points to the bench at the foot of her bed. “Sit. We need to talk.”

“You realize what’s left of the state press is currently crammed downstairs, right?” I grin. “Maybe they’ll turn on each other and start a brawl.”

“It’s not just state press this time. They can wait.” She resumes pacing, her impeccable heels clicking as she walks. I glance down at my jeans and somewhat worn button-up shirt, then remind myself that I’m not the one on camera. Even so, I run a hand over my light brown hair and try to smooth down the errant waves. I have these irritating little tufts of hair at my ears that never lay flat no matter what I do to them.

“Spill, sis.” I give up and force my hands to stay still in my lap. “I’m assuming this has to do with the election.”

“One month left.” She nods and stops pacing again. “I didn’t want to have to do this, but President Gray has left me no choice.” She walks to me and sits down carefully, no sense wrinkling her suit, I suppose. “He’s not leaving office.”

I meet her eyes. “You think he’ll win? I thought?—”

“No, he’s not going to win, Georgia, but even so, he doesn’t intend to leave.” She takes my hand in hers. Her fingers are cold, almost clammy, which is when I realize just how nervous she is. “He’s already spoken with his Joint Chiefs about overturning any election results and staying in the White House under a declaration of martial law.”

“That can’t be legal.”

“The person who determines what’s ‘legal’ is the one who commands the Army and the Navy. Right now, that’s Gray. He doesn’t want me anywhere near the White House.”

“So, what does that mean?” My mouth goes dry. “Do you think he’ll try to do something to you? Like, I don’t know, the way they used to do in Russia to their rivals? Or what happened to MLK.”

She cocks her head to the side. “Wait, you think MLK was?—”

“—taken out by the government.” I nod. “Definitely.”

She seems to consider it.

“Forget that part.” I shake my head. “My question is: are you in danger?”

“Nothing like that, no.” She sucks a tooth. “Actually, I wouldn’t put it past President Gray. He’s shown himself to be a lot more devious than I’d imagined.”

“Shit.” I swallow hard. “Do we need to do something? To leave? You should go into hiding.”

“No.” She sits up a little straighter. “I don’t run. Never have.”

“It’s not ‘running’ if it’s actually just ‘surviving’.” I squeeze her hand.

“I have a plan.” She almost smiles. “One that’s going to shock the world. You included. I’m going to win in a landslide.”