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Elias Vaughn sat at the bar of the Arlington Club, a well-known gathering spot for Washington’s most powerful n. His drink—bourbon, neat—sat untouched as he subtly observed the room. He wasn’t new to this ga. Years in military intelligence had taught him that patience was a weapon just as deadly as any blade.

Across the room, at a private booth in the back, William Bradford sat with his closest allies—Senators Macias and Carter, along with three other war-hungry congressn. Their table was partially shielded by the room’s dim lighting and the hum of conversations from other patrons, but Vaughn had positioned himself well. Close enough to listen, but not close enough to raise suspicion.

A waiter approached their table with a bottle of whiskey and glasses. The n seed at ease—laughing, sipping their drinks—but Vaughn knew better. This wasn’t just a casual gathering. This was where war was being decided.

Vaughn kept his posture relaxed, swirling his drink as he strained to hear. The key was to look uninterested, just another man enjoying his evening. A quick glance confird what he already knew—Bradford and his n weren’t even bothering to lower their voices.

"This delay is unacceptable," Carter grumbled, taking a sip of his drink. "Hesh is digging in his heels. He thinks he can outmaneuver us."

Bradford chuckled, swirling his glass. "Hesh is an idealist. He still believes this is about policy, about principle. He doesn’t realize that this war is inevitable—because we are making it inevitable."

Macias leaned forward. "You’re sure the override vote will pass?"

Bradford smirked. "It’s already done. We’ve secured the final votes we need. Once Hesh’s veto is overridden, he’ll be politically crippled. He can’t fight Congress and the military at the sa ti."

Vaughn took a slow sip of his bourbon, masking his reaction. The override was a foregone conclusion. That ant Matthew had only a few days left before the war beca law.

But what Bradford said next made Vaughn’s blood run cold.

"I don’t intend to wait for Hesh to make another speech," Bradford said, voice dropping lower. "We need to keep the montum going. The people are hungry for war, but if they start questioning, we lose control of the narrative."

Macias nodded. "Another incident, then?"

Vaughn’s pulse quickened.

Bradford smirked. "Yes. But not just any incident. We need sothing undeniable, sothing catastrophic. Sothing that will force Hesh’s hand."

Carter set his drink down. "What are you proposing?"

Bradford leaned in, his voice quiet but firm. "A direct attack on an Arathian asset—sothing big, sothing public. A warship, a convoy, maybe even an embassy. Sothing that will make it clear that xico isn’t just a threat—they’re the enemy."

A long silence followed. Vaughn forced himself to remain calm, his face impassive as he stared into his drink. This was exactly what Matthew had feared. Bradford wasn’t just fanning the flas—he was lighting the match himself.

Carter hesitated. Bradford waved him off. "We won’t be. We’ll make sure the evidence points directly to xico. We have contacts who can handle the operation. The mont it happens, the newspapers will be flooded with headlines. Public outrage will skyrocket. Hesh won’t have ti to resist."

"That’s risky. If we’re caught—"

Macias exhaled. "And if he still refuses?" Experience tales at .Côm

Bradford’s smirk widened. "Then we move to the next step. We’ve already planted the idea that Hesh is weak, indecisive. If he hesitates again, we push for his removal. Congress will have no choice but to act."

Carter nodded. "So it’s war, one way or another."

Bradford lifted his glass. "To Arathia’s future."

The others followed, their glasses clinking together.

Vaughn forced himself to stay seated, to remain calm. He had enough. More than enough. But he couldn’t leave too suddenly—that would draw attention. He took another sip of his bourbon, let a minute pass, then stood casually and made his way to the restroom.

Once inside, he locked the door behind him and exhaled. His mind raced. He had to get this information to Matthew imdiately.

Bradford wasn’t waiting. The next attack was already being planned.

And Arathia was on the verge of war.

Matthew sat in his office, exhaustion evident in his posture. The war declaration was still on his desk, unsigned. Collins stood nearby, pacing. They both knew that ti was running out.

A knock at the door. Collins opened it, revealing Vaughn.

Matthew’s gaze sharpened. "Tell you have sothing."

Vaughn stepped forward, his face grim. "It’s worse than we thought. Bradford is planning another attack—sothing bigger than Fort McKinley. Sothing that will make war unavoidable."

Matthew’s stomach tightened. "Details."

Vaughn recounted everything—the eting, the plan to stage an attack, the intention to eliminate any hesitation from Congress or the public. By the ti he finished, the room was heavy with silence.

Collins cursed under his breath. "They’re manufacturing another attack. And if it’s as big as Vaughn says, it won’t just be another border skirmish. It’ll be an act of war."

Matthew exhaled sharply. "Do we know where or when?"

Vaughn shook his head. "Not yet. But it’ll happen soon. Bradford knows you’re running out of ti."

Matthew leaned back, staring at the ceiling. "We need to stop this before it happens."

Collins frowned. "How? We don’t have proof. If we co out with this now, they’ll call it a conspiracy theory. The press won’t believe us. Congress won’t believe us. Hell, half your own cabinet won’t believe us."

Matthew’s jaw tightened. "Then we get proof."

Vaughn straightened. "If you give more ti, I can find out more. I can track the money, the communications. Soone in their operation is handling logistics—whoever they are, they’ll leave a trail."

Matthew nodded. "Do it. Whatever you need."

Collins hesitated. "Sir, if we go public with this, Bradford will retaliate. He’ll use every resource at his disposal to destroy you."

Matthew t his gaze. "Then we hit first."

Vaughn and Collins exchanged a glance.

Matthew stood, his expression hardened with resolve. "I want nas. I want docunts. I want anything that ties Bradford to this plot. Because if they think they can manufacture a war, they’re about to find out that I’m willing to fight to stop it."

Vaughn nodded. "I’ll get you what you need."

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