Page 12 of Her Dragon Daddy Disaster
“You should know, Agent Detfield, thatyouwere named as one of the women to be sent to the dragons. You, and only you, were mentioned by name. The others will be volunteers.”
If I hadn’t been sitting, my knees would have probably gone out from under me. “Me?”I squeaked unsteadily as the room spun around me.
I’d heard the rumors about how simple the terms were. Eight women as tribute. Harsh and antiquated, no doubt. But given how badly we’d been losing the war, finding eight women to volunteer seemed stunningly simple in comparison.
But I never expectedIwould be one of those women. I wouldn’t volunteer. I couldn’t.
“Mr. President,” I said, fighting down nausea. “Ican’tgo. I can’t. I …”
The politician in front of me dissolved until he was just a person. A family man himself. “I know,” he said softly. “I know about your son. About what this would do.”
“It would destroy my family!” I protested. “Jakub. My son.”
“Yes,” he said softly, empathetically, reaching out to show me he understood. But only for a second. Then the politician was back. “It would destroy your family. I know. Which is why I’ll never force you. The Office of the President might, but I, as aperson, will not. Can not. You must choose to do this yourself, Agent Detfield.”
“My son …”
“I know. It’s a sacrifice of unimaginable proportions,” he said. “One you should nothaveto make. But I ask you to think of the ones you would be saving. The millions stuck behind enemy lines who might now have a way out. The tens of thousands of soldiers who will live thanks to you. Whose families won’t be destroyed because of this war.”
I sank back into the couch as the weight of all that pressure descended on my shoulders. Me, Sarah Detfield. One single mother. All I had to do was give up my child, my life, and I could save the lives of others. Millions of them.
How could I say no to that? But I wanted to. I longed to. Every fiber in my body screamed at me to tell him to go to hell for asking me to make that kind of sacrifice.
But a second force rose to combat it. The force that had driven me from college to enlist in the Secret Service. The driving force that had pushed me to train harder than those around me, to force the agency to continue to promote me. That had put me within an inch of the president’s personal detail not once buttwicenow.
Duty. A duty to those around me, to my country. A duty that had often superseded that other side of me. Forced me to push it aside, to sacrifice things I wanted, for the “bigger” things I believed in.
The faces of those I knew who had been lost in the war or trapped behind the lines when the dragons made a sudden push, overwhelming the military faster than anyone could fall back. There were too many of them.
And I could save those now in danger. All I had to do was give up the most important thing to me.
Jakub. Jake. Myson. My beautiful four—almost five!—year-old baby boy.
I had to leave him. Abandon him.
It all hinged on me. Was I really so selfish I would ask the entire nation to continue suffering, to continue sending their sons and daughters to die, all so I could make no sacrifice at all?
Tears flooded my cheeks.
The president handed me a box of tissues.
I batted them aside, rising. “With all due respect, Mr. President, fuck you for asking this of me,” I spat, taking my anger out on someone who, in a calmer moment, I would admit was also extremely upset. “I understand why you had to. But I still hate you for it.”
“As do I,” he said heavily. “As do I. I suspect I’ll never sleep well again. Not that I expect you to give a damn about me. I know I wouldn’t. I wish there was more I could do. If I could go in your place, I would. What Icando, however, is at least promise you that your son will never want for anything. The best schooling, the best medical care, whatever the nation can do, I will ensure it is given to him. It’s not much, but I will do it.”
I barely heard. “Mr. President?”
He drew himself up respectfully. “Yes, Agent Detfield?”
“I’m going home. To see my son.”
Somehow, I waited for him to give me permission to leave.
Then I spun on my heel and walked out of the Oval Office. I ignored Hendricks and the other agents posted at the door. I ignored Sally, the president’s secretary. I ignored everyone as I walked in a haze to my locker. I grabbed my things and left. For the last time.
I didn’t say goodbye. I didn’t even notice the other people around me.
All I had eyes for was the little brown-eyed, chubby-cheeked face waiting for me at home. A face that would never truly be able to comprehend why his mother wasn’t going to be around anymore.
