In fifty years, lords would still be telling stories about the Unity Gala. Not one of them would know what happened behind the war room doors.
Maddox sat at the head of the table with Guinevere against his chest. The last time he'd put her in his lap she'd been blushing. The upgrade was devastating.
Every person who entered that room saw the same image. An apex predator was holding an unconscious woman like a stuffed animal he was worried he broke.
He checked her pulse beneath her jaw. Sixty-two beats per minute. Same as ten seconds ago.
Ryker leaned back in a chair, arms crossed, observing.
"She passed out the first time too."
The sentence landed in the room like a grenade with a bow on it.
Maddox's head lifted. The glare he sent across the table could have stripped paint off a warship and then sunk the warship for good measure.
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean."
Ryker raised both hands, palms out. "Just trying to put your mind at ease, Commander."
