Xavier’s hands found the edge of his desk, gripping it hard enough that his knuckles went white. The metal creaked slightly under the pressure.

An unknown drug.

A full-scale drug operation.

Right under his jurisdiction.

While he was fighting the Federation on the front lines.

While he was drowning in desk work, accumulating endlessly.

While he was trying to keep the Empire’s defenses intact and stabilize.

The damning realization that this had been happening in the shadows.

The anger that had been burning hot suddenly went cold, settling into his bones like ice.

This was worse than learning of Grayson’s actions.

This wasn’t just another problem.

This was his failure.

"Have you reported this to the Marshal?" Xavier asked, his voice cold but firm. He did not break eye contact.

Vane moved a little uneasily. "The Marshal... he’s reportedly laying low, sir. The succession battle is ongoing. Therefore, he declared that he cannot intervene as he normally would."

Xavier’s face twisted into a scowl.

"Lying low?" His voice rose slightly, clipped but tense. "The galaxy is burning, Vane, and he is playing politics while we wait? The Marshal once commanded fleets with a single word. And now... now he hides behind a mere protocol."

Vane swallowed. "It... It’s complicated, sir. There are internal pressures—factions began to align against each other. He... he has not left instructions for this period."

Xavier’s eyes narrowed, his hand drumming lightly on the edge of the desk.

"Complicated?" he repeated.

Age was one thing. Experience was valuable. But losing your spine? Becoming paralyzed by indecision at such a critical time? Just pick one side and be done with it! We have far more pressing things to do!

Xavier thought viciously.

But he said none of this aloud.

Instead, he forced his breathing to even out, his grip on the desk to loosen. "What else do you have to report?"

Vane seemed to sense that he was approaching the end of his ordeal. His posture visibly relaxed.

"Mick Hewitt," Vane began, "is bound to be sent to Vankila planet for assault and other charges. Keaton Hewitt, the eldest young master of the family, contacted Mick’s assistant, Killian Sergie."

Xavier frowned.

The Hewitt family was one of the Imperial Galaxy’s up-and-coming players. Sure, they barely scratch the surface of Xylos’ corporate game, but its promising heir, Keaton Hewitt, was known for his business acumen. He was known for his careful maneuvering in corporate circles.

"Why not Mick himself?" he asked sharply. "The eldest should be consolidating influence, rallying support... pulling strings to minimize the damage to the family name. Talking to an assistant? Something’s not adding up."

Vane paused. "Sir... according to the intelligence, Killian Sergie is fulfilling Mick Hewitt’s requests and handling all operational matters, including his properties and the secret establishments."

Understanding dawned, with grim satisfaction.

Killian Sergie is the linchpin. Arrest him, and the whole operation could come tumbling down. Maybe, just maybe, he could turn this disaster into a victory and prove that he was not only Grayson’s shadow.

"Get a hold of him," Xavier ordered, voice low and sharp, leaving no room for argument.

Vane’s expression became apologetic, almost pained.

"We intend to, sir... but Former Lieutenant Colonel Seaton intercepted a number of our operatives during this period. Orders were to wait until Keaton Hewitt fulfills his part of the deal."

For a moment, Xavier simply stared at Vane, unable to fully process what he had just heard. In a surge of pure, blinding rage, he slammed a fist on the desk with enough force to make the entire surface vibrate under the blow. The digital displays on Xavier’s desk flickered briefly before stabilizing.

"Orders from Seaton?" His voice rose sharply. "A mere former officer is overriding my orders now? I am the commanding officer! Do I look like a subordinate to anyone?!"

His pheromones spiked, flooding the air with his scent of pine tree. However, since the scent came from a dominant alpha, Vane felt the instinctive urge to submit and back away as a lesser alpha.

Vane flinched violently, staggering backward a step, his eyes wide.

"It... it is standard protocol, sir. Lieutenant Colonel Seaton..."

"FORMER Lieutenant Colonel Seaton?" Xavier’s voice dropped, tight, dangerous. "Why would you follow instructions from someone who already left the military?! Colonel Vane, I will not tolerate this atrocity."

Vane swallowed, hands clenching at his sides. "Understood, sir."

Xavier leaned forward slightly, voice hard, clipped. "Explain to me why you are obeying other people’s orders?"

Vane hesitated. "Because... the chain of command has operated under these rules for a long time. Lieutenant Colonel Seaton..."

"FORMER Lieutenant Colonel Seaton is not here anymore!" Xavier interrupted, voice cold and sharp. "He is not fighting in the field anymore. He does not have the authority to issue orders anymore, not even to anyone under my command."

His eyes glinted as he made it clear to Vane. "I now have the authority to make the decisions. I now hold the authority to give orders and commands. I get to decide what to do, when to do it, and where it will happen. Do you understand that, Colonel Vane?"

"Yes, General," Vane said quickly, snapping to attention.

The fury in his words was obvious, filling the room like a living thing.

But he had something to do.

Vane’s hands trembled as he reached into his pocket. His movements were jerky, uncoordinated. He pulled out a small chip, barely the size of a fingernail, and placed it on the desk with care.

The tiny piece of metal gleamed under the office lights.

"Former General Grayson Maxwell left instructions to Former Lieutenant Colonel Julius Seaton to be in contact during this sensitive period."

Vane’s voice was barely there. He needed to cough once to even finish his sentence.

"He trusts that you will know what to do."

The chip sat between them like a challenge.

Xavier stared at it, his breathing heavy, his jaw clenched so tight it ached. The rage still coursed through him, but he forced it down through sheer willpower.

He slowly reached out and took the chip. It was cold against his skin. It was a one-way secure contact device, standard issue for confidential military communications.

Unhackable, untraceable, and completely private.

The fact that Grayson had left this for him felt like a slap.

Xavier studied the chip, flipping it in his fingers. Part of him wanted to crush it, to grind it under his heel and tell off Julius Seaton.

But that was pride talking, not facts.

And if there was one thing Xavier had learned in his years climbing the military ranks, it was that pride was a luxury he couldn’t afford.

Whatever was on this chip, it was clearly important. Important enough for Grayson to leave a direct line of contact.

Xavier hated that he was curious. Hated that he was already planning to use the chip to follow whatever breadcrumbs Grayson had left. Most of all, he hated that he was stuck in this situation right now.

"I understand," Xavier said finally, the words coming out unwillingly and bitterly.

Vane’s eyes flicked toward him again. "Shall I brief the field teams now, sir? Or wait for further instructions?"

Xavier’s gaze fixed on him, unwavering.

"Wait. Alert them, yes—but no engagement. Let them know to be ready for my command. Missteps are unacceptable. Julius or Grayson may have something else in place. But we only strike on my orders. Am I clear?"

"Yes, General," Vane said, his salute crisp.

He closed his fist around the chip, feeling its edges bite into his palm. Then, meeting Vane’s eyes, he added: "Held Killian Sergie in captivity after this."

"Yes, General." Vane saluted with obvious relief. He wasted no time in turning on his heel and heading for the door, his stride just shy of a run.

The door closed behind him with a soft hiss, and suddenly Xavier was alone again. The silence felt oppressive after that intense conversation. He stood there for a long moment, the chip still clutched in his hand.

Xavier set the chip down on his desk, next to the holographic display with a mountain of unsigned documents.

As he scrolled through the forms and reports, Xavier couldn’t stop his gaze from drifting back to that small piece of metal.

Finally, he reached for the chip.

Xavier slid the chip into his light brain, and information streamed in instantly. Multiple holographic screens began to pop out and showed a bunch of files inside.

All of it was only visible to him.

Xavier read in silence, his expression growing more complex with each line. Surprise flickered across his features, followed by confusion, then grumbling, and finally, frustration.

When he finished, he stared at the ceiling.

"Typical Maxwell," Xavier muttered, a hint of bitterness in his tone. "Giving just enough information to be useful while withholding the bigger picture."

But it was enough.

Enough to know that Grayson had just changed battlefields. He was still a general thorough and thorough.

"You bastard," Xavier said, but there was no heat in the words—just exhaustion.