The President of the United States had stopped answering his office phone. Now his private one wouldn’t stop ringing.
"Mr. President, she is in my building."
He recognized the voice before he looked at the name. The man had helped pay for his campaign.
"Where are you?"
"Upstairs. Security told us to lock the conference room. We can hear her downstairs."
The President covered the microphone and looked at his security adviser.
"Another address."
The adviser held out his hand for the details while the caller kept speaking.
"My people have permits for everything in that building. Everything. If she has some kind of complaint, my lawyers can meet with hers. This is completely unacceptable."
Vespera truly wasn’t kidding; be they random gangsters, human traffickers, or legal businesses, Vespera did not care. She would visit every address with the potential to lead to the organization that dared hurt her children, and she would do it her way.
The Shadow Monarch refused to be contained any longer.
Something crashed beyond the man’s phone.
"Jesus Christ!"
The President stood so abruptly that his chair rolled back into the wall.
"Stay where you are. I’ll have someone contact her."
"You said that two minutes ago!"
The call went dead.
Before he could call back, another name filled the screen.
"Sir," his aide said from the doorway. "The foundation’s chairwoman is on your other line. She says it’s urgent."
He took the call at his desk.
The woman began speaking before he could greet her.
"My husband is at the hospital."
"Was he attacked?"
"She walked through our offices. He tried to introduce himself, and he..."
Her breath caught. The President knew this woman. He had watched her make a roomful of executives laugh while extracting more money from them than some towns earned in a year.
"He fell down," she managed. "He couldn’t breathe. Half the staff couldn’t. They were crawling under their desks, and she kept going, emanating this immense pressure."
He pressed his fingers against the edge of the desk.
"What was she looking for?"
"How should I know?! She opened the records room, took everything inside, and left! My assistant is still hiding in a bathroom. She’s twenty-four years old, and she won’t come out because she thinks that woman is coming back!"
His private phone started vibrating against the wood.
The President stared at it while the chairwoman demanded to know what he intended to do.
"The distribution center is clear," his adviser said. "Nothing illegal. Everyone survived, but their awakened couldn’t even get close enough to ask her to stop."
The private phone stopped, then immediately began again.
Vespera was walking through properties whose owners could reach him without going through a secretary. These people had sat beside his wife at dinner and expected a problem to end when he picked up.
He couldn’t even tell them which building she would enter next.
"Get that assistant of hers on the line again," he said.
"We’re trying, sir. Ms. Rook isn’t picking up."
The chairwoman was still waiting on the desk phone.
"Mr. President?"
He put the receiver back to his ear.
"I’m here."
"Then do something!"

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