Page 18

Chapter Eighteen

Elias

Two weeks after the grid collapse, life was more or less back to normal, but it was a new normal for Elias. He straightened his tie in the small hotel room one last time before fiddling with his hair to get it to sit right—casual but well-groomed. Cay had touted the benefits of this laid back style for appearances, but he suspected the real motive was how it highlighted the silvery strands and gave the impression of having just crawled out of bed. He had to admit he looked more… approachable. A little less buttoned up, at the very least. A man of the people. With a shrug to his reflection, he departed the room and followed the harried man tasked with getting him to and from where he needed to be. He had a whole team now. It was a little overwhelming if he thought too hard about it.

A personal assistant, a stylist, and not one, but two bodyguards sourced and selected by Connor personally followed in his wake as he made his way to the conference hall of the DC hotel selected for this interview. His new normal featured a jam-packed schedule in their efforts to secure as many delegates as possible. If he couldn't secure the DNC nomination, the whole thing would be moot. Given how late in the game he had announced his intentions, they had a lot of work to do. A touch of sadness crept in as he entered the conference hall to find even more people in a flurry of activity. He’d experienced this fervor from the sidelines when Adelaide campaigned for the nomination, and he'd followed along for the run up to her Election Day. It was a stark contrast to be on the other side fighting against her to secure the nomination.

“Mm mm mm, baby doll. You look scrumptious.” Caleb appeared out of thin air wearing his characteristic grin and wielding his padfolio like a General preparing for war. He stole a moment to reel his partner closer and press a kiss to his lips.

“Thanks to you,” Elias murmured, fighting to keep his smile from becoming too lovestruck. He failed, of course. The click and flash of a camera resulted in them both laughing. This was their new normal—sound bites and photo ops. The only saving grace was that he knew none of his optics were manufactured. He’d gladly give the world a glimpse of how madly in love he was with his husband.

“Did you run through your notes again?” Caleb fussed briefly, touching tender fingertips to his tie, pin, and pocket square before plucking a lint that might have been imaginary from the lapel of his suit jacket.

“Three times. I'm not worried about this one. Janine is a solid player.”

“She is, but be on your toes. You know how things get, and we’re really throwing a monkey wrench into this situation with Adelaide.” Caleb nodded, more to himself than anyone else, before stepping back with another smile. “Give’em hell, boss man.”

The makeshift stage was a hot spot of light in the middle of the austere conference hall. Rings of cameras, lights, and dozens of staff surrounded the seating area constructed for their interview. He had no clue where the plush leather chairs came from, nor did he think the arrival of carefully curated houseplants and table lamps was the result of the hotel's efforts. It looked almost cozy. Optics. He shook his head and stepped up onto the platform to greet the CNN journalist waiting for his arrival.

Janine Whittiker was a powerhouse for government reporting. Mid to late thirties, sharply dressed, and even more sharply prepared for this exclusive Caleb had managed to secure. She was the kind of woman who could be a boon or bane, depending on which side of her good graces an interviewee landed on. Once upon a time, she was a staunch supporter of Adelaide Montgomery. That was no longer the case, given all the events that had transpired. For now, Elias had her support. That could change with the slightest misstep. They shook hands and exchanged genuine pleasantries, but the hawk-eyed journalist was no doubt ready to pounce if the opportunity arose.

After another round of fussing and fiddling, they finally got down to business. The crew counted down the cameras, the lights turned ruthless, and his breathing settled with the calm familiarity of press briefings and negotiations, skills he had no doubt he possessed. Janine started them off easy with casual questions, a sort of meet and greet for the benefit of viewers. Sooner rather than later, they shifted into the heart of the matter.

“Mr. Cohen-Williams, the American people are scared.” Janine shifted in her seat, leaning forward with an unflappable expression. “The entire DC area was plunged into darkness. Financial systems were hit, transportation collapsed, and the government came to a standstill. Critics say this attack proves we are vulnerable in ways your party has consistently failed to address. How do you respond to that?”

Elias smoothed a hand over his tie before mirroring her engaged posture. “First, let’s be clear—this was an attack, not a failure of governance. And I promise you, the people truly responsible for this will be found and held accountable.”

“What about national security? We now know that sensitive government files were accessed during the attack. Do you believe this was a foreign operation or are you concerned about a domestic threat?”

Theo’s devastated expression flitted to the forefront of Elias’ mind, but he schooled his features and responded with the well-practiced words needed to address Janine’s question. “I have it on good authority that our intelligence agencies are working diligently to determine the source of the breach. What I can tell you is this—our enemies, both foreign and domestic, have one goal and that is to see us divided. They want chaos. They want fear. And I refuse to let them win.”

As the interview wound down, a heavy weight settled in Elias’ chest. For all his carefully chosen words, he had not told the truth. Not the full truth, anyway. Yes, the FBI was investigating the breach, but other agencies weren't investigating. They were fabricating the story, framing Theo and God knows who else. Not a single one of them had escaped the questioning, the investigation, the interviews to determine Theo’s location, the story they’d concocted about the Montgomery children's abrupt vacation to warmer climes. If it weren't for the Directors of the FBI and the Secret Service backing them up, the whole charade would have crumbled. He supposed it paid to have friends in high places.

“You did phenomenally. We're still in control of the story.” Caleb met him in the wings, pulling him close by the lapels and lowering his voice to maintain discretion.

Elias rubbed the nape of his neck with a sigh. “Are we, though?”

Caleb searched his face, quiet and unrevealing, before patting Elias’ chest. “Come on. We have a schedule, my love.”

His non-answer was all the answer he needed. They might have the story under control for now, but it was a tightrope walk Elias wasn't sure he could follow through on. One wrong move and it would all come toppling down.

The community center was small, tucked between aging buildings on the outskirts of the city and still recovering from the effects of the blackout. The entire neighborhood was still recovering. He understood on a practical level why the power had been restored in waves, why the center of the city had been prioritized, why the hierarchy had been established. The reality of what that looked like for the residents of this neighborhood niggled at his heart. Garbage piled on the curb, a potable water truck remained parked in the parking lot, and listless citizens wandered the sidewalks with hollow expressions, appearing lost and saddened despite the brilliance of the October afternoon.

With his diligent bodyguards and husband in tow, Elias stepped through the familiar doors and paused as the nostalgia hit him full force in the center of his chest. This place was important to him. This place was solace. He took a moment to breathe in the scent of coffee, old books, and painful memories. His gaze swept over the walls, taking in the flags from every branch of the armed forces as well as the memorial plaques and pictures glowing softly under the illumination from the overhead lighting. Without a second thought, his feet carried him to the far wall, to the photograph he'd hung himself eight years earlier.

“This is the same one Parker has in his room, isn't it?” Caleb tucked in close beside him, gathering Elias’ hand between his own.

“Mhmm. The last photo I took.” Elias reached out with his free hand to gently straighten the frame. “It was the morning of her last deployment.”

The bright smile on his late wife’s face in the photograph stung for so many reasons. He keenly remembered the fighting, the arguing, the tears that had come before this moment captured forever by his shaky hand as he prepared to say goodbye to his wife. If he had known at the time that it would be the last moment they shared together, he might have fought harder, tried harder to get her to stay, or at least forced her to hold her infant son one last time. But he hadn't known. Something like that was unknowable. So he’d settled for a snapshot. A snapshot of his wife smiling that brilliant smile, her face exuding pure, unadulterated joy over the opportunity to return to the frontlines to fight for her country.

He turned his back on the past and focused on the present, on the men and women gathered in the community center for the weekly veteran's support group. He hadn't attended these particular meetings in the past, but he'd been here hundreds of times for the support group for spouses of soldiers lost to the often thankless career. Sometimes he would come simply to sit in the space and reminisce as little Parker would nap, later learning to crawl in this very building. Not all of the memories were bad. He'd found many friends here, support from unlikely people who knew, at least a little bit, what he was going through. Hell, he’d met Adelaide here, and despite the current status of their fractured relationship, he found happiness in the memory because it had brought him Theo, Toby, and Anna.

The gathering was a mixed bag of generations and it was easy to see the different experiences that shaped them into who they were today. Older men proudly wore their VFW hats and patch-emblazoned jackets proclaiming their service. The younger generation, all wary eyes and stern faces, told another story. Some still wore bits and pieces of their history in their clothing—Army t-shirts, combat boots, the occasional pair of fatigue pants as if they were unable to break from the uniform without losing a part of their identity. They didn't wear flags or patches or insignia, though. The conflict was still too fresh, the disillusionment too real.

“Appreciate you being here,” an older man said as he shuffled forward, pausing to shift his cane into his left hand before they shook. “Not too often we get politicians in here to actually sit down and listen.”

Elias returned the firm grip with a sad smile. “I'd say that’s the real failure in leadership.”

A derisive snort from nearby caught his attention. Tracking the sound, he found a young man, younger than Connor, slouched in a folding chair with his arms wrapped across the broad expanse of his chest. Fatigue pants and combat boots, barely hanging on by a thread, mirrored the man’s hardened eyes and barely there smirk. God, he couldn't be more than a year out of the service if his haircut, build, and stiff posture were anything to go by.

“Hey there, soldier. Elias. Elias Cohen-Williams.” He stepped forward and held out a hand. The young man eyed it before sucking his teeth and glancing up.

“Yeah. I know who you are.”

“I'm happy to be here—”

“Right. Keep telling yourself that. It's a nice show for your little photographers over there. Words are nice, but what about action?” The man jerked his chin toward Elias’ outstretched hand with another scoff. “Handshakes and patriotism ain’t enough to survive on. I've heard all the empty promises before. My unit, we lost three guys to suicide in the last year. The VA is underfunded. Every time things get a little tight, the first thing to go is mental health programs. Eight years of service and I been out of a job for six months now. But sure, you're happy to be here.”

Elias let his hand fall to his side and looked at the guy. Really looked, searching the hard set of his jaw and that spark smoldering in his eyes. The slow-burn fire of anger over being betrayed, of giving everything up for a country who gave him little in return. It was the same thing he had seen in countless faces. It was the same look he’d seen in Theo’s eyes.

“You’re right.” Elias plucked at his trousers to take a knee, kneeling down to look the younger man in the eye. “We have failed you. I'm not going to pretend otherwise and I'm not going to feed you bullshit stories for sound bites and optics.”

A single eyebrow arched at him as he rested his hand on the man’s knee. “What I can tell you is this: I don't want your vote because I say the right things. I want your vote because I will fight for you the way my wife fought for this country. I will fight for you the way you have fought for this country. I want your vote because I will look every corrupt politician in the eye—just like I'm looking you in the eye—and remind them that leadership is not about power. Leadership is about service. And I thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for your service.”

The moment stretched, silent entreaty against silent disdain, before a subtle shift softened the younger man's features and his eyes sparked with something other than anger. If he had to put a name to it, Elias would have called that microscopic sparkle hope.

“I'm gonna hold you to that,” he murmured, eyes darting around Elias’ face before he moistened his lower lip with the tip of his tongue. “Man to man, I'm holding you to that.”

The rest of the afternoon progressed in much the same way, leaving Elias somber but determined. Dozens of stories were shared with him. Stories of grit, loss, hardship, but most of all, stories of resilience. Soldiers turned into fighters by the government and left eager to fight against the injustices brought upon them by that very same entity. It was sobering but not surprising. The passion it inspired in him was enough to steal his breath away. He made sure each and every single attendee had his personal contact information as the day wore down, but one particular young man also left with Connor’s number and a promise of a personal recommendation for employment. On the surface, it was simply his desire to do the right thing, but he suspected a lot of what drove him to do it was the fact that the young man’s haunted hazel eyes acutely reminded him of Theo’s.

He excused himself from the group still lingering over coffee and made his way to the restroom. It had been a long day and he was eager to get home, to return to that slice of normalcy before that, too, was inextricably altered forever. He was confident in the abilities of his bodyguards, so it didn't cause him any alarm when he heard the door open and someone enter the neighboring stall. Nor did he feel any apprehension when the stall later opened and a figure approached, choosing the sink immediately next to where he washed his hands. A quick glance in the mirror had his spine stiffening in an instant.

He'd never seen this man, not personally, but the appearance definitely matched the one Caleb had given him. It also rang true of the description Luke had shared with them. The hair was different—closely shaved instead of tightly coiled—but the rest rang true. Dark brown eyes, soft features but a hard jawline, complexion rich and warm. He had carefully constructed his outfit to blend with the surroundings, but unlike the business casual outfit Caleb had recalled or the rags Luke had mentioned, these items looked well-worn and perfectly tailored to the man’s lean muscle tone. His tactical pants were faded, the boots showed evidence of many years worth of care, and the black Henley could have been painted on for how it hugged every muscle.

“Nice speech out there,” the stranger grinned back at him through the reflection in the mirror. “Real nice.”

“Thank you. Have we met?” Elias knew the answer to his question, but it seemed like the most logical response as it fell from his tongue.

“No. Not formally.” He leaned closer with a wink. “We have mutual friends.”

“Ah, of course.” Elias turned just as the man stepped closer, invading his personal space. “How can I help you—”

“Careful out there, boss man.” He tipped his head toward the exit with another slow smile. “The game's already rigged. But…”

Elias tensed as the man reached toward the back pocket of his pants. Briefly, visions of being gunned down in the public restroom of a community center flashed through his mind before the stranger revealed a small square of paper. Nevertheless, his adrenaline spiked.

“We might be able to stack the deck in your favor.” Without hesitation, the man slipped the paper into Elias’ palm. He stepped back, gave a jaunty little two-finger salute, and said, “See you on the other side, Mr. President.”

He disappeared as quickly as he arrived, leaving Elias alone in the dank humidity of the restroom, his hands still moist from the faucet and stress sweat combined. Pursing his lips, he glanced down and carefully unfolded the square of paper to discover a handwritten message in ink that was already starting to bleed and run from the moisture.

“How about a game at your place? Monday. 18:00. We’ll bring the playing cards. You bring all your friends.”

Elias huffed a small breath through his nose. Refolding the slip of paper, Elias admitted three very important things to himself. One: this was a terrible idea. Two: it would take a lot of convincing to make it happen. Three: he was sure as shit going to do it. If only because he needed to know what the hell was going on and he definitely didn't trust any sources outside his close circle of friends. Curiouser and curiouser.