"Enough!"
Montoya slammed his hand on the table.
"Stop trying to sell me that nonsense you peddle to amateurs!"
He stood up, rounded his desk, and walked over to Graves, looming over him.
"I'm the Whip, Harun. I know the price of every deal made in this building. I know the dirty work behind every single bill."
"What I don't know is why, at a time like this, we'd go out of our way to provoke that crazy old man, Sanders."
"That 14th Amendment was passed just three months ago. Hardly anyone even fully understands its scope of application, and you people go and use it on some kid from Pittsburgh?"
"Tell me the truth, Harun. Whose idea was this? What's the goal?"
Under Montoya's intense, oppressive gaze, Graves's composure finally crumbled.
He sighed, slumping back into his chair.
"Fine, Kod, since you insist on knowing."
Graves pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the sweat from his forehead.
