Before the whiskey, the file, and the part where his day officially went up in flames, there was still one last order to give and one last competent bastard left to dump it on.
Maddox's gaze flicked to Sterling. "Security will be air tight at her coronation. Coordinate with Blair and Jaxon. No hiccups."
"Consider it done, Commander." Sterling filed out behind the others with the efficient stride of a man who had already started building the security grid in his head.
The war room cleared. Boots, cloaks, chairs scraping stone, the organized retreat of people who had things to do and limited daylight to do them in.
As soon as the door closed, Ryker handed Maddox a file with the word REDACTED stamped across the front.
Maddox dropped into a chair.
REDACTED had never stopped him from opening a file before and it wasn't going to stop him now.
Ryker poured two whiskeys, then slid one to Maddox. "You're not going to like what's in here, Commander."
