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The red line, “Breaking news,” flashing on the bottom of it.
My guys murmuring, “Fuck,” again and again.
The door behind us opening and closing.
The clacking of the heels—Margot.
The urgent whispers behind me.
Amir’s phone ringing.
Mine too, but I don’t pick up.
The Center phones suddenly go off the hook at multiple desks.
Then another.
And another.
The tension in the room is almost palpable.
I rub the back of my neck with my palm, trying to collect myself and snap out of this stupor.
“But he… No one knows for sure, right?” I want to argue. I just talked to Dad half an hour ago. People die. Horrible things happen. Just not to the most powerful men in the world.
Everything around is the same, yet isn’t. My brain can’t process the numbers on the screen.
643 presumed dead, over a thousand injured.
They don’t make sense. This just can’t be.
“Archer,” Marlow almost whispers my name.
“I’m sorry, Archer. It’s—” Even Amir, who is always on top of everything, is lost for words.
And I lose my sense of time and space. No words can describe what I feel. The Change finally caught up with me, with Dad—the man who was in charge of the country’s security and escaped the war.
Terrorist attack.
“It’s not confirmed though, is it, the identities of the victims?” I ask, hating how pathetic I sound, not able to tear my eyes off the screen, not even sure who I’m asking.
The wordsvictimandmy daddon’t sound right in the same sentence.
Amir casts his eyes down, hands in his pockets. “There can’t be survivors on the Assembly floor, they said.”
I take a deep breath.
Usually, my mind is dizzy with thoughts. Now it’s quiet. Like there’s a vacuum.
“I need a drink,” I say.
“I’ll get it,” Marlow snaps. “What do you want?”
“No, let’s go to my villa. I need a moment.”
“Sure,” several of the guys say at the same time.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I don’t pick up. It goes quiet, then beeps with a message. Then rings again.
