Chapter 6: The Capital on Edge

The intern pointed at himself, bewildered. “Me?”

He looked like he’d just been told to arrest the quarterback at the Super Bowl. His hands trembled, voice barely a whisper. All eyes in the room locked on him.

Carter’s face fell instantly.

A vein throbbed in his temple, the kind of anger only a frustrated president could muster. He leaned forward, hands gripping the desk.

The chief of staff barked, “Watch your mouth! How dare you question the president’s order!”

Her tone was pure authority—no room for backtalk, not even for the president’s golden boy intern.

The intern dropped to his knees, stammering, “Sir… the Commander… he didn’t come alone…”

He sounded close to tears, eyes darting to the Secret Service outside. His voice broke, echoing down the hallway.

The chief of staff’s eyes narrowed. “How many did he bring into the capital?”

She leaned forward, voice dropping to a hiss. Tyrell swallowed hard, the weight of the moment pressing down on his skinny shoulders.

The intern trembled. “Flags as far as the eye can see, soldiers everywhere… at least… at least a hundred thousand…”

His voice cracked, and the words hung heavy. The silence that followed was thick enough to cut with a knife.

Carter collapsed into his chair, face pale, eyes vacant, muttering, “I clearly wrote in the order that he should come alone… How dare he ignore me…”

The president’s words trailed off, barely more than a whisper. For the first time, he looked lost, a man out of his depth. Denise quietly shut the door, the world outside rushing in like a cold wind.

Outside D.C., I looked at the city skyline and let out a long breath.

I stood atop the command Humvee, the spires and monuments of the capital shining in the morning haze. Sirens wailed in the distance, and the sweet tang of spring grass mixed with diesel in the air. My heart pounded with anticipation and fear. This time, it’s in the bag.

For a rebel commander, reaching this point is basically a declaration of victory.

The city’s silhouette was both promise and threat, history waiting to be rewritten. I felt the weight of every rebel before me—Grant, Sherman, King—standing at the edge of the impossible.

The vanguard I lead now is only three thousand, all armored cavalry—not exactly the best for a siege.

Their engines rumbled, armored hulls painted with slogans and cartoons. They were the tip of the spear, but even the best spears break against stone walls. Still, they looked to me, waiting for a sign.

There are fifty thousand National Guard in the capital. Though they’re mostly pampered sons of politicians, I have to stay cautious. If I blew it here, I’d be a joke.

All I need to do now is wait for the main force to arrive, then start pressuring the president.

I checked my watch—cheap digital, army issue. Time ticked by, every second a lifetime. The city slept, but not for long. I was here to wake it—and the whole damn country—with a thunderclap.