Devastated, I wish I lived in this fictional world... but we persevere Kamala will always be president in this story LOL. Stuff is getting really interesting and sweet in the romance category. Next chapter will be a montage to illustrate the passage of time since the two will be separated for months, doing campaign and liberation work.

Chapter 21

The low hum of military helicopters filled the air as Tori and Trina stood on the command deck of the mobile operations base, just outside the capital of Yerba. The sun was setting, casting an eerie glow over the city that had been Tori's home, the city she had ruled. Now, it was on the brink of war. The American troops—elite, well-trained, and heavily armed—were ready. Tori, in full combat gear, looked every bit the leader she had been, but inside, her heart was pounding. This wasn't the power she craved. It never had been. She was fighting for something bigger now—the future of Yerba and, in a way, her future with Jade.

Trina, standing beside her in tactical gear, had become more of a leader than ever before. With Carlos still recovering in Germany and Tori focused on the invasion, Trina had taken charge of the ground intelligence, making decisions that would ultimately turn the tide of this mission. Her confidence and growing skill in leadership were impossible to ignore.

"Are you ready for this?" Trina asked, her eyes sharp as she glanced at her sister.

Tori nodded, her jaw clenched. "I never wanted it to come to this. But we have no choice."

Trina glanced at the American general standing nearby. "They're waiting on your signal."

Tori took a deep breath, steeling herself. "Let's get this over with."

The invasion came under the cover of darkness. Silent and swift, American forces, supported by a growing faction of Yerbanian rebels, descended on the capital like a storm. In the quiet stillness of the night, military vehicles hummed through hidden routes, tanks rumbled across unmarked roads, and air support circled above, waiting for the signal. The operations were tightly coordinated—an intricate web of reconnaissance, air drops, and ground troops moving in synchrony with precision.

Yerba's regime, once powerful and intimidating, had grown complacent in its corruption and overconfidence. Their military was bloated, its ranks filled with loyalists who cared more for their personal gain than their country's security. They believed the unrest in the streets was just another fleeting disturbance, something to be ignored. The arrogance was their downfall.

With lightning speed, the Americans and rebels launched their attack, seizing key government installations with minimal resistance. The military's defenses, previously thought impenetrable, began to crumble as the American forces, reinforced by seasoned guerilla fighters, took control of strategic checkpoints.

By midnight, critical airbases and communications towers were disabled, throwing Yerba's regime into chaos. The power that had once felt so secure in its towering offices began to unravel.

Inside the mobile command base, Tori and Trina were positioned far from the front lines but their presence was just as crucial. The room buzzed with activity, screens flickering with live data, strategic maps flashing before them. Trina sat at a large terminal, tracking the movement of their forces as they began to overwhelm key military strongholds. A map of Yerba City unfolded on the central screen, marked with green dots representing allied troops and rebel units.

Each dot represented progress—a troop advancing on the regime's defensive positions or a key installation falling into rebel hands. But the green dots weren't enough. As dawn broke, a fresh wave of resistance surged through the streets. The regime had rallied its loyalists, and pockets of their forces, dug into fortified positions, were holding ground—guns blazing in skirmishes with the advancing American troops.

The streets became chaos. As American forces moved in on critical zones, gunfire erupted across the city. The barricades that once seemed like an easy obstacle for their advance now proved more formidable. Civilians, caught in the crossfire, had become part of the battlefield. The confusion and violence amplified their sense of urgency. It wasn't just a military operation anymore—it was a race against time to prevent a full-scale civil disaster.

Tori, who had been coordinating with high-level military contacts, watched the map intently. "We're running out of time," she said, her voice tight. "We can't lose ground."

But Trina was focused, her face illuminated by the glow of the screens. She was calm, almost eerily so. "We've got this. Just give me a minute," she replied, her voice steady with the practiced assurance of someone who had been at the heart of military strategy before. Her eyes scanned the screen, pinpointing areas of weakness.

It was then that the first breakthrough came—not from the battlefield, but from within.

Trina had been hunting for weeks—tracking, observing, analyzing intelligence that the regime's highest ranks had failed to conceal. Her goal was to sever the head of the serpent. Her suspicion had always been that there were internal fractures within the regime—traitors, turncoats, those who had grown disillusioned. What Trina uncovered shocked even her.

The coup, the one that had led to the regime's consolidation of power, was not just a product of military force—it had been orchestrated by members of Tori's own cabinet. The very people Tori had once trusted to lead Yerba's government had secretly sold out to the regime, seeking power for themselves.

Trina immediately began a series of coordinated strikes against these key figures. Through a combination of special forces raids and cyberattacks, she exposed their positions, and one by one, the conspirators were eliminated. It was swift, efficient, and left no room for retaliation. Tori's trusted allies had become her worst enemies, but Trina had cut off their heads, ensuring the regime was without leadership in key positions.

"Done," Trina said, her voice low but triumphant. She turned to Tori, who stood, eyes fixed on the central screen as their forces advanced, pushing further into the city. "The heart of the regime is gone. Without their leaders, they're scattered. We're winning."

Tori exhaled, letting herself believe it. The map on the screen was now filled with more green dots than red—signs that their forces were pushing forward, reclaiming lost territory. The regime's last holdouts were starting to falter, retreating into their strongholds or abandoning their positions altogether.

"This is it," Trina said, her voice sharpening with determination. "We just need to hold out a little longer."

Tori nodded, her face drawn with exhaustion but her eyes set with resolve. "Once the regime falls, it's over. The people will rise." Her words were steady, but underneath the calm, the weight of what was at stake rested heavily on her shoulders. She had spent years fighting for her country's freedom, and now, she was watching as that very freedom was finally within reach.

And it was then that something extraordinary happened.

As the sun rose and the first light filtered into the war-torn streets of Yerba, the most unexpected thing began to unfold. The people—who had long been oppressed, who had lived under fear and silence—began to rise.

Reports from across the country flooded in. It started with a single protest, then another. Citizens, emboldened by the American forces and the presence of their once-beloved Chancellor, began to pour into the streets. What had once been a suppressed movement was now a full-fledged revolution. People armed themselves with whatever they could find—rusted rifles, blunt instruments, homemade grenades—and took to the streets in defiance.

But it wasn't just about arms and violence. Citizens in neighborhoods across Yerba started barricading roads, blocking supply routes for the regime's soldiers. They blocked off key intersections, forcing the loyalists to waste precious time and resources. People were no longer just hiding in the shadows—they were fighting back in the open, reclaiming the streets they had been too scared to tread.

As Tori watched the reports, her heart pounded in her chest. She had hoped for this moment, but seeing it in action was overwhelming. It wasn't just a military victory—they were witnessing a full-scale uprising, a revolution by the people. The city was alive with energy, with the voice of a population that had long been silenced.

It was the turning point. Yerba's fate had been sealed. The regime's grip on power was slipping, and now, it was only a matter of time before they fell.

Tori glanced at Trina. "It's happening. The people are fighting for their freedom."

Trina smiled faintly, her gaze steady. "It's not over yet, but we've won. We just have to finish it."

As the forces continued to push forward and the people's revolt grew in strength, the inevitable conclusion became clear: Yerba would soon be free. And the dawn of a new era was finally on the horizon.

Jade stood at the podium, flashes of cameras in front of her, cheers rolling through the crowd of supporters who filled the hall. The claps and roars were encouraging, but Jade barely heard them. Her mind was thousands of miles away, locked on a battle across the ocean—a battle that held the fate of the woman she couldn't stop thinking about.

But here she was in Iowa, with her campaign team pushing her to focus on one thing: proving she could secure the liberal nomination against her own party. They were frustrated, talking in hushed voices about her policies being "too far left," too progressive for their comfort. They claimed her achievements, though groundbreaking, had stretched the nation's tolerance for progressive ideals. In whispers and closed-door meetings, they were already entertaining "alternatives"—moderates who promised to rein in what Jade's administration had expanded.

She pushed forward through her stump speech, a passionate argument about healthcare, climate change, and social justice. The crowd was energized, but she couldn't ignore the undertones of tension that were growing. The polls showed she had a strong lead in the Democratic primary, yet it wasn't enough to quell the party's unease.

Her campaign manager, Janine, hovered nearby, watching her intently as she delivered her speech. And she could see it in Janine's eyes: the worry, the strategic calculations about whether Jade's commitment to reform and change would be her downfall.

As the event drew to a close, she moved backstage, and Janine was immediately at her side. "You were great out there, Jade. But we need to talk. We have to address the concerns of some of the key state leaders—they're worried about what's happening overseas, worried it's going to distract you from the campaign."

Jade took a steadying breath. "I'm fine, Janine. The situation in Yerba is well-handled, and I'm keeping all my obligations here. You know I won't let anything interfere with my responsibilities."

"I know," Janine said, her voice softening. "But we both know this isn't just about the situation in Yerba. They're nervous. Nervous that we're pushing too far, that we're risking the presidency. After Harris left, the pendulum swung back hard right, and now we're barely holding it here. They're afraid of losing it."

"Afraid of change, you mean," Jade muttered, her voice bitter.

Janine sighed. "We've come a long way, but you're under attack from all sides. And while I know you're the best thing that's happened to this party in years, they need convincing."

Jade leaned against the wall, her heart racing not from her campaign but from the knowledge of what Tori was doing overseas. She knew it was selfish to be this worried, but the images of Tori on the front lines of her country's liberation filled her mind. She'd never felt so divided. Here she was fighting for the soul of her country, and there Tori was, risking her life for hers. And all she could do was wait, stuck in endless rallies and strategy sessions.

She forced herself to focus on Janine. "Look, Janine, I'm doing everything I can. My administration's record speaks for itself. People want a better future, and we've shown that's possible."

Janine's face softened. "I believe in you, Jade. But this election, it's going to be tough. Iowa, New Hampshire... it's only the beginning. And we're fighting to keep the party from splintering."

Jade gave her a small nod, but inside, the anxiety clawed at her. She needed to be in both places at once, for her country and for Tori. As Janine walked off to organize the next event, Jade slipped away to her private room, feeling the weight of it all.

She checked her phone for updates, scrolling through messages and news, desperately hoping for a word from Tori. Then, almost like a blessing, her phone chimed. It was an update: The regime's resistance has weakened. Citizens are joining the movement. The tide is turning.

She felt a flicker of relief, but it was fleeting. Tori was still in the heart of it, and she knew anything could happen. There would be no relief until the final report came that Tori was safe.

The city lay still beneath a quiet sky, the silence broken only by the distant, scattered voices of people who had survived the storm. Tori and Trina stood outside the main government building, now overtaken by rebels, their eyes scanning the worn-out city that had once been a symbol of unyielding power. They'd reclaimed it, but as Tori looked out over the crumbling structures and the chaos that still simmered beneath, a sense of emptiness filled her. They'd fought, they'd bled, and yet the stability she'd hoped to feel was nowhere in sight. The victory felt hollow, each scarred wall a reminder of how much work still lay ahead.

That night, alone in what had once been her office, Tori felt the weight of the empty silence around her. She picked up the phone and dialed a number she knew by heart. It rang just once.

"Tori?" Jade's voice was soft, but Tori could hear the tension beneath it.

"It's over," Tori whispered. "The regime's gone. The strongholds are empty, the leaders…they're either dead or in custody. It's done."

Jade's relief was palpable, though her voice remained steady. "You did it, Tori. You saved Yerba."

Tori let out a heavy sigh, her gaze drifting over the ruined office. "But at what cost? The country's a wreck. There's no one ready to step up, and the power vacuums…they're everywhere." She pressed her hand against her forehead, feeling the weight of her words. "I thought I'd feel different. Lighter, maybe. Instead, it just feels like I traded one mess for another."

There was a long pause, and then Jade's voice cut through the quiet. "Tori, you've done more for Yerba than anyone else ever has. You've led them through a revolution; you've given them a chance at real freedom."

"And now?" Tori's voice cracked. "Now that they're free, what happens? I can't keep doing this. I don't even want this job anymore, Jade."

"You don't have to." Jade's words came out gently, but with the authority of someone who understood the weight of leadership. "Tori, what if you don't rebuild the old system? What if, instead, you work on creating something new—something that doesn't need you to hold it together?"

Tori's silence spoke volumes. She'd thought about stepping down, but only in fleeting moments of doubt and exhaustion. She'd never imagined actually letting go, not after everything she'd done to reclaim Yerba. "You think I could just…walk away?"

"Not immediately," Jade replied carefully. "But you could set the groundwork for a real democracy, Tori. A republic, with elected leaders who could take the reins. It wouldn't be overnight; it would mean months of work. But think about it—it would mean you could finally be free."

Tori felt her chest tighten, hope and apprehension mixing together. "And what about me? Where would I go?"

"Well, that's the easy part." Jade's voice warmed with a hint of reassurance. "We could restore your residency permissions here in the U.S. You'd be able to live here legally, even if it means seeking asylum for a while. You could be free, really free."

Tori closed her eyes, the idea settling into place. "An election," she murmured, the thought sounding less like a burden and more like a release. "A real one. If we can build it right, it'll mean Yerba won't need a dictator or a revolution anymore."

"Exactly." Jade's voice softened, almost as if she'd been waiting for Tori to see it for herself. "You don't have to be the one holding it all together. You could be the one who finally lets Yerba breathe on its own."

"And that means I'd be free," Tori echoed, her own words surprising her.

"Yes," Jade whispered. "You could finally live for yourself."

Tori let out a long breath, the weight in her chest lifting ever so slightly. For the first time in years, she could see a path forward that didn't end in solitude or endless fighting. The idea of setting her country up for its future—without her constantly standing guard—made her feel like she could finally step out of the shadows of her own life.

"Jade," Tori began slowly, "thank you. I don't think I could have ever seen this without you."

There was a pause, thick with emotion. "You don't have to thank me," Jade said gently. "I just want you to be free, Tori. You deserve it."

They spoke late into the night, Jade guiding her through the first steps of what would become a long, difficult transition. Tori felt her confidence rebuilding with each word, bolstered by Jade's steady presence. And though they were still worlds apart, Tori knew that Jade was her anchor, her unwavering light, leading her toward a future that, for the first time in years, was finally her own.