“If My Daughter’s A General, Then I’m A Ballerina,” He Said—Until The Doors Opened

toward the service corridor, my comms crackled.

“General, we have a problem. Hostile team just entered the main lobby. Four individuals, armed, moving toward the ballroom.”

My blood went cold.

The ballroom. Where three hundred unsuspecting people were laughing at my father’s jokes.

“Options?” I asked quietly.

“We can reroute them toward the west exit, but continue reading …