“The Senator is currently explaining his presence here to a federal prosecutor,” my father said.

He walked over to me and put his arm around my shoulders.

His jacket smelled of rain, cedar, and gunpowder.

“Are you alright, Emily?” he asked softly.

“I am now,” I said, leaning into his side.

The tactical officers flooded into the room, their weapons raised, their red laser sights dancing across the walls.

“Secure the suspects,” the lead officer ordered.

Two men in black gear grabbed Ryan, pushing him against the wall and zip-tyying his wrists.

Ryan cried out, complaining about his shoulder, but the officers ignored his protests.

Charles was led away next, his head bowed, his hands secured behind his back.

As they passed us, Charles looked at my father with pure hatred.

“You ruined us,” Charles hissed.

“You ruined yourselves,” my father replied. “I just turned on the lights.”

The lead officer approached my father, removing his helmet to reveal a weathered, serious face.

“Colonel Ward is waiting for you in the courtyard, Arthur,” the officer said.

“Thank you, Captain,” my father said.