Peter was far out of his element. Soldiers made him skittish. He had followed in his father’s footsteps and tried and failed to write a few bills to limit militias like my father’s. Despite those setbacks, he’d been climbing the ranks in Washington quickly. Except for me, Peter had a knack for figuring out how to get what he wanted. He was more than ambitious; he was obsessive, and his presence in the room at that moment was suspicious.

“Peter,” I said, stepping out from behind my team.

He smiled, looking more relieved than surprised. “Naomi.”

“Bennett,” Harbinger said. “As in Speaker of the House Bennett? I’m guessing that’s your father?”

Bennett straightened his tie. “You are correct.”

“You know him?” Martinez asked, not at all quiet.

Bianca shot me a glare. Her feelings toward me had gone from dislike to a one-sided competition.

I shrugged one shoulder. “We’ve met.”

Bennett couldn’t have looked more heartbroken, and Bianca was unhappy. She cleared her throat. “Shall we go? We don’t want to keep the general waiting.”

As we cleared out, I looked over my shoulder at Bennett once more before we left the NORAD Operations room for the elevator.

Sloan fell behind, and I waited for him. He took the chance to lean over and whisper to me. “Who is he again? The guy in the suit.”

“He’s from Sasabe, like me.” I breathed out a laugh. “We were all homeschooled, you know, the militia brats. The kids from public used to come out and dare each other to get close to our walls. My dad caught Peter trying to sneak into the compound one night. He’s not exactly brave, but he’s always had balls. Does that make sense?”

“Stupid enough to think he wouldn’t get caught?” Sloan grumbled, spitting something from his lips.

“Peter was the politician’s son—the very one who’d caused so much trouble for us. It was a tense four hours until Peter was released. I brought him dinner. We talked. We snuck around to see each other after that.”

“So he’s your ex? Like a high school sweetheart?”

“Yep,” I said with a sigh.

“Quite a coincidence that we end up here under him.”

“Yep.”

We were introduced to the general and then quickly dismissed.

No one spoke while we retraced our steps back down corridor Charlie, through the blast doors, and to the administrative offices. Bianca left us in a large conference room alone.

The white walls were blank except for a few cracks and a line of portraits of old men with a lot of stars on their shoulders. The paint seemed to be the original coat, the bookshelves nearly empty, the large rectangular oak table with far fewer chairs than it could accommodate.

“Did they bring us here to die?” Martinez asked, looking around.