(Third Person)
Brackham strode back into his office an hour later.
His fury, which had begun in the control room, hadn't cooled. Instead, it had only condensed, growing heavier and darker.
His secretary hurried after him with a tablet still clutched in both hands. "Sir—" she began timidly as the door shut behind them.
"The senators have been calling nonstop since the lockdown order. They are demanding to speak with you. I told them that you stepped out for a minute, but they—"
Before she could finish, the phone on his desk started ringing insistently and unforgivingly. The sound pierced the air like a nerve being struck.
Brackham stopped in the middle of the room, his gaze locking on the phone as though it had personally offended him.
The ringing didn't stop. If anything, it seemed to mock him, echoing his own loss of control.
"Disconnect it," he said flatly.
"Sir?" the secretary asked, uncertain she had heard him correctly.
