Page 242 of Filthy Royal

I’m coming, Zaya. And when I find you, I’m getting us out of there and taking you home.

Nothing would stop her.

* * *

Flynn

Five rotations later…

Commander Flynn Anderson marched along the hall, looking neither left nor right. Mostly because he had somewhere to be.

But also partly because he didn’t give a shit about the nervous junior officers and trainees scurrying out of sight, all the while praying his gaze didn’t alight on them.

He knew what they called him: Stoneface. The Disciplinarian. The Warden. The Breaker. Seemed they had as many nicknames as they had complaints, and no one wanted to find themselves in one of his cells, undergoing his unique brand of interrogation. Particularly since thefuck up that had allowed Maxheim Skolov and his omega to escape while in transit.

Face expressionless, spine ramrod straight, he stalked down the corridor, the flickering lights painting everything a sickly green. But mood lighting wasn’t exactly a prison requirement.

Misery was.

And each and every scum moaning in the cells that lined his solitary lockup deserved exactly what came their way.

Obedience Breeds Order. Defiance Begets Doom.

Unity Through Control. Prosperity Through Submission.

Flynn didn’t need to see the words etched into the panels on the curved gray walls to absorb their messages. He’d had those mantras burned into his brain ever since his conscription into Federation military life as a youth.

“Commander, sir.” A pale-faced trainee rushed forward, dread written in every line of his young face. “I—”

“Not now.”

“But—”

“We have a new arrival.” That strange sensation that had whispered across Flynn’s skin for the past few rotations grew stronger with each step he took. “I already issued my orders. No. Interruptions.”

Details on this newest prisoner were sparse, though her list of alleged crimes was troubling.

She’d been caught and dragged in for questioning this sun’s rise. No one knew where she’d come from, how she’d suddenly appeared in the Federation sector without papers or identification and wearing clothes usually found outside the protected barrier, or why she’d been skulking around his detention center.

It would be his job to restore order once more. Like always.

And, yet, for some strange reason, anticipation thrummed in his veins this time.

An odd sensation.

He didn’t usually do excitement. Or any emotions, for that matter. He hadn’t since he was youngling, and everything changed.

“Have I made my orders clear?” Flynn kept his tone deliberately steady as he addressed the trainee. He’d long ago perfected the ability to erase any natural aggression from his voice.

What he felt on the inside was another matter. But that was a problem for another rotation.

“Yes, Commander.” Shrinking beneath his icy stare, the trainee slunk away.

Flynn barely noticed. His attention was already on the door of cell number 2479.

His wrists burned, and before he’d realized what he was doing, he lifted his chin to sniff the air, his fangs pushing against his gums—

Shit.

---