Page 13
Story: Rise (The Dissenter Saga #3)
WES
“ L ong live the king,” I said.
My father’s head snapped backward, landing on the back of his chair before rolling to the left. His entire body slumped over.
He was dead.
Fisher screamed. The idiot actually screamed and looked like he was about ready to cry as his trembling hands touched the red spattering of blood across his face.
Blood splattered the chairs. Splattered the china and the glasses and the floor.
How long would it take the maids to scrub the rug this time?
Krous continued to hold Bynes at gunpoint. I shifted my aim to Fisher.
“First Commander Fisher, I’m officially assuming control of the North. Do you submit your loyalty to your new president?”
Fisher cowered, muttering incoherently as he looked from me to my father to my gun and then back to my father. Then he nodded vehemently as he simpered. “Y-yes. Yes, of course, Mr. Calvernon—I mean president ! Mr. President. I-I defer command to you. Whatever you want, just don’t shoot me! ”
I shook my head. Sasha was right. Gary Fisher wasn’t a leader. Allowing him to assume control for any length of time was equivalent to handing power over to a slug. Raúl would have slaughtered us all before the week’s end.
I breathed out. Tipped my head in his direction to show some modicum of respect. “Thank you for your loyalty, First Commander. I look forward to working with you.”
He quaked, lifting his napkin desperately to wipe the blood from his face, muttering and mumbling away.
I looked at Cassia. Aimed my gun at her. Watched as she glared at Krous, who still had her under his aim as well. Her face was also splattered with my father’s blood. But unlike Fisher, she wore it like a badge of honor.
“General Bynes.” She shifted her gaze to me. I continued with the same formalities, the same pomp and circumstance as before. “I am officially assuming control of the North. Do you submit your loyalty to your new president?”
Bynes narrowed her eyes at me. Sneered at me. And then spat on the floor. “I refuse to yield to a traitorous usurper.”
I grimaced. She wasn’t wrong. But I swallowed the glimmer of guilt that was simmering within me.
It was a shame. As much as Bynes was a complete bitch, she was extremely good at her job.
I could have used her help. “I’m sorry to hear that, General.
But I respect your decision. I thank you for all of your years of loyal service to the North.
” Keeping my gun on Cassia, I looked at Krous.
“Lieutenant?” I didn’t even get a chance to repeat the same stupid question to him before he answered.
“Yes, sir. I accept and defer to your command as President of the North.”
If Krous hadn’t been willing to stand with me—to take the chance, the risk—and defy my father, I would have been dead. I appreciated him and his willingness to sacrifice himself and bet on me .
I tried a half-hearted smile. Forced. Brittle. Fake.
“Thank you for your loyalty, Mr. Krous. You’ve just been promoted to General.” His eyes widened for half a second before he nodded, still keeping his gun fixed on Bynes. “General Krous, please take Cassia Bynes into custody. See to it that she is treated well.”
“Yes, sir.”
“After booking Ms. Bynes, begin rallying our troops. Inform all officers to re-engage in the war efforts against the Telvians.”
Krous smiled. His eyes spoke of pride. “Absolutely, sir.” And then he moved.
Cassia rolled her shoulders back and stood up tall, but she didn’t put up a fight.
She accepted the weight of the choice she made, and I respected her for that.
Krous walked around the table as Bynes stepped away from her seat.
With Cassia in front of him, Krous marched her out of the dining room, gun held at her back as she walked out.
I lowered my arm, feeling the weight of the gun in my hand as gravity pulled it to the floor. “Commander?”
“Y-yes, sir?” The man was still sitting in his chair, still fiddling with his napkin, rubbing at the fabrics of his suit as though a stupid dinner cloth would remove the stain of my crime.
“I need you to inform President De’vor that negotiations with Telvia have been suspended.”
His eyes widened. “But, sir, Mr. de la Puente will—”
My voice was ice. Thirty-two degrees. “ Commander ,” I cut him off. “I said that I want you to inform President De’vor that all negotiations with Telvia have been suspended. Understand?” I pointed my gun at him once again. “Or did you have a change of heart?”
He shook his head. “No! No, sir. I-I’ll inform President De’vor at once. Anything else?”
I rolled my head along my shoulders, cracking my neck, and lowered my gun once again. The idiot. I was going to have to find someone else to replace him sooner than later .
I answered. “Yes. Inform President De’vor that the North’s alliance with the Dissenters will remain intact. If she will still have us as an ally, we would be glad to remain hers.”
Fisher stuttered, mumbled, muttered, but ultimately agreed. Quickly, he stood from his chair and all but ran across the dining room to the door.
“Commander?”
Fisher halted, almost falling over himself before he looked over his shoulder at me. “Yes, sir?”
“Where is she?”
“Sir?”
“Where is Mara?”
His face paled. His chin quivered. “S-she’s at Hope State Correctional, sir.”
Hope State? I felt my body shudder. I should have known he would have put her there. Nothing good ever happened at Hope State. Hope was a painful thing. A deadly thing.
I had to get her out of there.
I nodded, trying to contain the maelstrom inside me, threatening to pull me under. I had to remain rigid. I had to stay firm. I couldn’t turn into petals and roses. Not until Mara was safe. I had to remain stone.
I waved off Fisher, and he was all too happy to escape my presence, tripping on the doorjamb on his way out.
And then I was alone. Alone in the dining room with my father’s corpse. I couldn’t believe I killed him.
I had killed before. It was an unfortunate side effect of being a soldier. Death was always knocking on my door. Curled up with me at night. Kept me company as I ate my breakfast or drank my morning brew.
I saw the faces of every man or woman I ever killed.
Listened to the story their eyes told before the lights turned out.
And I felt guilt for every one of them. Because soldiers weren’t the real enemy.
They were just like me. Given a job to do, a part to play.
And that part came with bloodstained hands and a haunted soul.
I had slain a president and declared myself king. History had repeated itself. Except this time, the setting was in the North instead of the West.
I understood what I had done.
Knew the battle I would face and what that would entail.
And I knew I was beyond the point of return.
If we start down this road, there is no going back. Are you prepared to do what must be done?
I lifted my hand. Looked at the gun I held in my grasp.
Felt the weight of polymer and steel, of gunpowder and lead.
Felt the heavy shroud that was the choice I had made as it fell over my soul like chains.
I knew my actions were about to unleash a cascade of reactions and consequences, and all I could do was hope that I was prepared to take on the aftermath of my crime.
But I would do it all over again for her. Because I would always do everything in my power to save her. No matter the odds.
Or die trying.
Because Mara was the universe to me. And who wouldn’t sacrifice themselves at the edge of the world to the galaxies?
I wasn’t Chase—just the crude replica of a better man. But I refused to let that chip on my shoulder prevent me from doing what had to be done. It wouldn’t hold me back anymore.
Because I was firm.
And I was rigid.
And I was strong.
And I was bold.
And I was too rough, too crass, and too brass.
Because I was a hurricane and a tornado and a tidal wave and a volcano and I would stop at nothing until Mara was safe in my arms once more.
So fuck the world.
Bring on the storm.
I was ready.
I am Wes.
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
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- Page 5
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- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 13 (Reading here)
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