6
Ridge
I look down at the list of names on my desk. There are fourteen in total.
I sigh and scrub a hand over my face.
Six of them are my staff members. They were males from my security team who were on rotation at the vaccination center when everything went pear-shaped. The other eight are civilians and clinic staff.
I press the heels of my hands into my closed eyes for a second before reading the list a third time.
They spelled one of the names wrong. I cross it out, spelling it correctly, initialing next to it. Then I run through the rest of the details, which are all correct.
Then I hand the printout to my PA, Layla.
“Get this back to the printers tonight,” I tell her. “I want the programs ready by tomorrow morning.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Has the catering been ordered?”
“Yes, sir. It has been confirmed for both venues. Iron’s family asked if we could move the reception to the orchard rather than the hall. I told them yes. I hope that was the right call.”
“Absolutely.” I look up at her, noting that her eyes are red at the edges. Ethan Porter, who worked and died at the vaccination center, was her cousin. She helped get him the job.
“Listen, Layla…”
“Sir.”
“Take the rest of the day off.”
“Sir, I have to help prepare for?—”
“It can wait. I’ll handle whatever comes in. Take the day off. Call your family. It might be time to visit the Mainland.”
She holds my eyes for a second, and then she nods once and goes to gather her things. I watch her through the glass of my office wall as she pulls her coat off the back of her chair, says something brief to one of the analysts in the bullpen, and walks out.
The pen is still loud. It has been that way for nine days straight. Three workstations have fresh occupants on them with temporary transfers I pulled in from the northern outpost to plug the gaps. The phones are going nuts. Two of my mid-rank officers are bent over a map of the Mistveil approach corridors, arguing in low voices about a third escape attempt this week. Reds, trying to slip through. They’re pissed off at what the Mainland has done and want their freedom more than ever. I had hoped that it would die down now that the opposite is true.
I can’t say that I blame them, but my orders haven’t changed, and until they do, we have a job to do. This war isn’t over.
Magma marches up and down, giving orders. I’ll leave him to it. He’s coping – for now. I’m waiting for him to pull me in to assist.
Hopefully, tensions will ease after the upcoming Council meeting with the Mistveil delegates.
I push back from my desk, pull on my jacket, and tell my deputy where I’m going.
“Are you sure you want to go yourself?” he asks. “I can have?—”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
He nods once.
I run the arm of security that places, trains, and maintains every uniformed body posted across the island, from the gate of the vaccination center to the watch huts on the southern reefs. Everyone but the riders themselves; that’s on Magma.
He nods his head when he sees me, and I wave, walking out the door.
I head to my SUV and pull out. The first house on my list belongs to Dusk’s mate.
