Chapter 598:
“The only clue from that truck, remember? It turned up something,” Rylie nodded. “There’s a drug from the Indoria Federation — a mix of motherwort, cannabis, and a plant that only grows there. It boosts brain activity and quickly alleviates fear. They use it for soldiers sometimes, but too much of it and your skin breaks down.”
Brad’s eyes narrowed. “Indoria Federation. They’re right at the edge of the Strait.”
Looking up, Rylie met his gaze, her tone clear. “So if the President thinks building up the islands is the answer, he’s about to pour gasoline on a fire.”
Brad gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind Rylie’s ear, his voice low. “The President plays it safe, but this isn’t his plan. The cabinet’s the one pushing hard, waving the flag of ‘defense’ and ‘expansion.’ I’m not on board with any of it.”
Rylie’s eyes narrowed, mind already piecing things together. “So…”
…someone’s stirring the pot inside, trying to silence you. All those medals and your service record? They make you a target, Brad. You’re the anchor for Eshea’s stability — exactly what certain enemies want to shatter. So you must—”
“There’s a traitor. Someone’s been leaking where I go,” he interjected, finishing her thought.
Rylie nodded, eyes thoughtful. “Before we move on, there’s something else you should consider.” She hesitated, searching his face.
Brad waited, focused on her every word.
“The whole oilfield mess has arms dealers fuming over your ceasefire. Somebody’s losing a lot of money because you won’t play ball. So, who in the cabinet’s gunning for you over your anti-war stance?”
Brad’s features hardened, shadows gathering in his eyes. “Rowell’s at the front of the line.”
“The Commander-in-chief himself,” Rylie remarked, unflinching. “Guys like him don’t leave evidence lying around. If he’s dirty, it’ll take more than rumors to bring him down.”
gαℓησν𝒆ℓs․com is your story source
Brad saw the concern flicker across her face and, without thinking, reached out and pinched her cheek, soft and reassuring. “Hey, this is my problem, not yours. I’ve already said too much — some of it’s not even supposed to leave the base.”
“Even if you hadn’t told me, Brad, my people would’ve figured most of this out already,” Rylie said, brushing his hand aside, her gaze unwavering. “I saved your life, remember? Don’t treat me like someone who needs protecting. Don’t sell me short, either.”
Brad backed off at once, bowing his head in real apology. “You’re right. That was out of line.”
Rylie stood on tiptoe, mimicking his usual gesture, and ruffled his bristly hair before calmly retracting her hand. “You clean up the rest.” She flashed him a quick smile before gliding out of the kitchen.
He stood frozen for a second, stunned by her boldness, before letting out a quiet laugh. No one — not in all his years — had ever treated him like that. She was fearless.
After everything at Melany’s place was sorted out, the tension between them faded.
When they parted ways, something Rylie said lingered in Brad’s mind. “I heard you’re about to take the reins at Sweetberry? That the company Laurel uses to squeeze cash for her family? Your grandpa let you manage the affairs there?” Rylie shook her head. “That was my move. Laurel’s dye plant might have ties to what happened to me as a kid. Running Sweetberry gives me a reason to poke around. If I showed up out of nowhere, they’d get suspicious and cover their tracks.”
.
.
.