Griffin had worn many titles in his lifetime—son, brother, friend, sergeant, sniper, Howling Commando, fallen war hero, the Revenant, Sentinel, White Wolf. Now, against all odds, he was a Congressman. (©TRS0724CAI)

No one had seen this coming, least of all Griffin himself. And yet, here he was, striding across the Capitol Complex toward the Cannon House Office Building, where he and his fellow Representatives conducted the business of government.

As his Chief of Staff, your job was to navigate the political labyrinth—analyzing legislation, fielding constituent concerns, managing the office, and ensuring everything ran smoothly. In short, you were Griffin’s right hand, the person who made sure he stayed ahead of the curve.

Armed with an overflowing stack of files, you glanced up as Griffin walked in.

“Good morning, Congressman,” you greeted him with a knowing smile.

Griffin huffed a quiet laugh as he shrugged off his coat, draping it over the back of his chair. “Still not used to that,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair. “Feels weird hearing it.”

“You’d better get used to it,” you teased, setting the files down on his desk. “Because you have a full schedule today, and everyone’s going to be calling you ‘Congressman Cross’ whether you like it or not.”

He sighed, leaning against the desk with his arms crossed. “Alright, hit me. What fresh hell are we walking into today?”

You flipped open your planner. “First up, a meeting with the Armed Services Committee—there’s a briefing on veterans’ mental health programs. Then, a call with the Majority Whip about your stance on the upcoming defense spending bill. After that, a working lunch with representatives from a nonprofit focused on aiding displaced war refugees.”

Griffin groaned. “Tell me there’s at least something on this list that won’t make my head hurt.”

You smirked, holding up a folder. “Well, there’s a proposal for naming a new VA facility after Grant.”

“Huh,” he said after a beat. “Grant would’ve hated that.”