Chapter 778:
Brad gave a faint smile. “How do you read this situation?”
Rylie answered, “Ares Global supplies most of East Islet’s weapons. That country depends on imports, since they lack rare earths and minerals. If war broke out now, Ares Global would reap the greatest profit. But you stand in their way. You’re the steady force beside the President and the conservatives, blocking every scheme. The radicals who crave war can’t tolerate it any longer, so they’ve made their move.”
She seemed to have access to truths far beyond what her background could offer.
“They’re not after me. They’re stirring the people,” Brad said, a glimmer of admiration in his eyes.
When they reached the eaves, he shut the umbrella and clasped her hand again, guiding her inside.
“The reports will paint it as nothing more than East Islet sinking a fishing boat with thirty of our citizens aboard. Because I oppose war, my stance will be to blame. Outrage will boil over, and protesters will demand punishment. That uproar gives the radicals their excuse to strike, and the arms dealers behind the curtain will line their pockets.”
Rylie asked softly, “And in the end?”
Brad gave a bitter laugh. “Two paths await me.”
She studied his gaze, dark and unflinching, and spoke for him. “Either wage war to pacify the public, or face suspension while they investigate you.”
Even with the President’s shield, he couldn’t be defended openly. The cabinet was split down the middle, and if the scandal touched the President, impeachment loomed near.
Ares Global had played their hand flawlessly.
Brad spoke in an even tone. “I don’t fear war or suspension. Neither threat holds sway over me. I stand by my belief that lives are fragile. War tears families apart, yet too many chase vengeance without thought of the cost.”
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The real tragedy was that soldiers, mere pawns in their nations’ games, carried the weight of such conflicts.
As they moved into the second-floor hall, they passed the lone survivor of the Everswell, just rousing from anesthesia as staff wheeled him to a private room.
Realizing that the man had been pulled back from death, Brad turned toward Rylie. “It was you who saved him.”
Certainty colored Brad’s voice.
When the lone survivor was brought back, the doctors had told Brad that the odds of saving him were almost nonexistent. Yet the miracle had come from her hands.
One of the physicians nearby spoke with quiet respect. “Thanks to Miss Owen, we pulled through ten hours of surgery without a single error and saved a life everyone thought was gone.”
Brad’s eyes lingered on the fisherman, newly conscious. He tightened his hold on Rylie’s hand. “Thank you.”
She gave a faint shake of her head. “It’s all right.”
At the sight of Brad, the fisherman’s face twisted in anguish. The painkillers dulled his wounds, but his voice still broke out hoarse and raw. “Why did you let us take the shells? Why let us sink? We saw the rescue ship right there! Why not save us?”
Rage and despair burned in his eyes as the monitors blared in alarm. A doctor hurried to pull him out of Brad’s sight.
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