The Oval Office ✓ (Book One)

Chapter Forty Seven

                              Ethan's P.O.V

  I pace back and forth across the interrogation room, watching James quickly scribble out names and the location of the individuals on it.He's been at this for hours- not that I'm surprised. The dude has a photographic memory, so whoever gave him the role he had within the organization had to be a fucking moron. Even when they had Emily- how idiotic can you be?

  "Can you stop pacing like that?" James says. "I can't concentrate."

  "Tough." I reply. "You better fucking concentrate if you want to stay alive. Regardless of how progressive this country is, treason still carries the death penalty."

He gulps. "Has it slipped all of your minds that i was the one who revealed her location? That without me breaking it probably would have been a few more days before ya'll found her and that she probably would've been dead by then? I did what I did to save my girlfriend- when it became evident that was never going to happen regardless, when I broke- I had to watch them fucking shoot her in the head."

  "Oh we haven't forgotten that. The jury and judge will take it into account when discussing your sentence." I sit on the table. "But they will also consider this: Regardless of your reasons, you kidnapped the First Lady. You've killed over twenty federal agents and secret service. You've committed treason. So I suggest you tell us who the fuck the 'boss' is."

  "If I tell you that I might as well just kill  you and myself." He shrugs. "I don't think any of you are getting it yet. These four hundred and thirty seven names I've given you won't say it either because they know better. Some of them have families- children. I don't have anything left to lose but by refusing to give you the... person's name I am saving your life."

  "Bullshit!" I slam my hand on the table.

  "Not bullshit. I'd rather go by lethal injection if it comes to that." He says.

  "Let's see-" I rub my chin. "Right now you're looking at one count of kidnapping. At least twenty seven counts of first degree murder and, judging by your own testimony, well over a hundred counts of first degree assault and battery. So we'll be holding you to that if you insist."

  I go to walk out, my hand on the doorknob. "Wait-" He sighs. "I'll say it."

  I raise an eyebrow, giving him the "I'm listening so hurry the fuck up look."

  "Firstly- I want you to disregard what I said about Prince Ahmad and Princess Ariyah."

  "Okay? Keep going."

  "They were both very powerful within the organization. But neither of them were 'second in commands.' "

  "So what the fuck were they?"

  He looks around, still worried that somewhere in this room, there's a bug. This is the first time I've ever seen James, who is almost always calm, shaking. He's still a fuck face and he always will be, but my empathetic self can't help but feel bad for people when they look as terrified as he does. "If I tell you the name- I'm going to need witness protection for at least thirty years, probably more."

  "Done."

  He sits up, leaning forward as far as the restraints will let him.  I slide a little closer, probably making the secret service shit themselves.He could easily get out of them if he wanted to, so the fact that he hasn't tried yet really says something. He whispers the name in my ear, and my eyes go wide.

  Holy-

  That manipulative son of a bitch.

    ————

I feel like I don't deserve to be angry. After all, I'm not the one that was affected by this- but those who were the most were some of my best friends, a thirteen year old boy and his father. I don't think I'd be able to go on if I saw my son's head detached from his body. Speaking of bodies-the ones at their headquarters are in the process of being transported back here now. Princess Ariyah's. Adrians. Emily's.

Now her- her I feel bad for. She was already hiding from her psychopathic brother, James being the person that was supposed to protect her. Now, her blood is splattered across the command opps of the group's headquarters. As I take the basements elevator down another floor, scanning my fingerprint to let me in to the area where high profile detainees are kept, I can't get the faces of those affected out of my mind.

Aileen. Emily. The First Lady's Mother. Taylor, who, from what I've heard, is a complete wreck right now.

Mina. An innocent child who was born into one of the most fucked up families on this planet. She'll be staying at the White House, for a while at least. Because once the media gets wind of the fact that an Ordaian princess is a U.S refugee, there'll be endless questions that we cannot answer for national security reasons.

This is just about the most secure area of the White House, maybe behind the situation room and the residence. The residence is about seventy percent rebuilt already- White House construction workers don't play around. Anything that needs to get done is done quickly and immediately. They started rebuilding that section as soon as they got the bodies out and found the blueprints.

I show my ID to the agents in front of his room, who step aside to let me in. He sits on the edge of his bed now, casually reading a book. "Alright motherfucker-" I say. "Your rights have already been read to you. I'm simply here to inform you that you are fucked."

He gulps, then chuckles. "Oh Ethan, I didn't think you were that stupid. Double major at Harvard, finished the fbi academy early and went back for more. Your mother lives at 415 froe street. You are her neighbor."

"What's the matter?" I stare him down. "Are you afraid, for once in your life? Knowing that you finally no longer have any power, you make these threats, even though they mean nothing anymore."

I pause for a second to breath.

"In fact, I doubt that you'll live to see the end of the decade, prince."