“That man told them… what!?” Moore shouted as he stormed into his office. The young man trailing behind him had clearly been sent by Bernard, but Reginald couldn’t figure why. After all, Whiteblood never shied away from an opportunity to make an appearance.

  “You heard me correctly, sir. Canada knows about the Order, and they know that you’re behind it. The coup is recommending that–” the boy started.

  “I don’t give a damn what the coup is recommending! Get Whiteblood in here. Now!” Moore shouted, ushering the kid out of the office and slamming the door shut. Half an hour later, the man himself entered the Oval Office.

  “You wanted to speak with me?” Whiteblood started.

  “Oh, shut the hell up! Canada knows about the coup! That little spy that you shot in my yard told them everything!”

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  “I know,” Whiteblood groaned.

  “Then why aren’t we doing anything? We should be launching everything we have at them before they can expose us.”

  “Canada doesn’t know that we are aware of their intel. If we give them a reason to spill the beans, that doesn’t help any of us. I’ll be back tomorrow to discuss our more domestic plans.”

  With that, Whiteblood left the office. The room was silent as Moore stared into the carpeted floor. Eventually, he looked over at the shiny glass display case that housed his wine glasses and bottles. His eyes met the reflection of his face for a second, but he snapped away. The man in the glass hardly even resembled Reginald anymore.

  He grabbed a bottle and poured. Without hesitation, he downed the entire glass and returned the cup to its shelf.