Taming the Wild Beast of Alamina

”Ordinary,” he concluded.

He let it fall.

It struck Andrea’s abdomen and rolled into the hollow Thomas had opened in his chest.

The physician made a broken sound.

Thomas turned toward the glass.

”I gave you sixty seconds.”

”You tore out his heart.”

”Yes.”

The physician stared at the body. ”He was already dying.”

Thomas reached for a towel from the medical tray and began wiping blood from his hands.

”He was taking too long.”

The guard lowered his eyes.

Thomas cleaned beneath his fingernails, then examined his wrists. Blood had reached the edges of his rolled sleeves but had not soaked beyond them.

He removed his shirt carefully, turning the stained cuffs inward so they would not touch his skin.

Underneath, he wore a fitted black undershirt.

Clean.

He washed his hands at the chamber basin until the pink water turned clear.

The physician finally entered.

Thomas did not stop him this time.

The man moved toward the frame on unsteady legs, though there was nothing left for him to save. He touched Andrea’s throat, perhaps from instinct, perhaps because training demanded confirmation even when the empty cavity in the man’s chest made the gesture absurd.

”He is dead,” the physician said.

”Yes.”

”You could have broken his neck.”

”Doctor, did I ever tell you how to do your job?”

The physician went very still.

”No, Commander.”

Thomas folded the bloodied towel once, then set it on the medical tray with almost offensive neatness. ”Then do not tell me how to do mine.”

The physician swallowed.

Behind the glass, Andrea Vale’s body hung in the restraints, chest opened, heart gone, face frozen in the last useless shape of terror.

Thomas did not look at him again.

He had already seen enough.

The guards at the door stepped aside before he reached them. None of them spoke. None of them asked whether the interrogation had truly ended or whether the private record would require additional justification.

There would be paperwork. There was always paperwork.

But Andrea Vale was officially dead already, and unofficially no longer useful enough to breathe.

That simplified things.

Thomas walked out of the containment chamber and into the outer corridor.

Florian was waiting.

Thomas’s chief of security stood beside the sealed door in a dark Rohan uniform, posture straight, expression unreadable, a folded black shirt held over one arm. It was identical to the one Thomas had discarded inside the chamber.

Thomas looked at it.

Florian lifted it slightly. ”Commander.”

”Did Mother let you approach me at last?”

Florian let out a long breath. ”Only after I promised not to give you access to work for another week.”

Thomas laughed.

It came out low and rough, pulling at his ribs, but he did not regret it. ”Do not worry about it. I do not plan to work until Sylvia is healthy and completely mine.”

Florian’s expression did not change.

Thomas took the shirt from him and began dressing. ”Do not make that face.”

”I am making no face, Commander.”

”You are thinking loudly.”

”I am thinking that Lady Sylvia may have opinions on the phrase completely mine.”

Thomas paused with one arm through the sleeve.

Then his mouth curved faintly. ”She will.”

”And?”

”And I intend to hear every one of them.”

Florian inclined his head. ”Wise.”

”Careful. You are close to sounding relieved.”

”I have worked for you for eight years. Relief is rarely productive.”

Thomas finished buttoning the shirt with slower fingers than he liked. The fresh fabric settled over the bandages, hiding most of the stiffness in his movements.

”Is the house in Roslew ready?” Thomas asked.

”Yes.”

”Medical?”

”Installed. Seven’s people inspected it this morning and complained for forty-six minutes.”

”Accepted?”

”Accepted after General Lancaster stood behind them and asked whether they preferred to repeat the complaints to her.”

Thomas’s mouth twitched. ”Efficient.”

”The east bedroom has been converted for Lady Sylvia’s recovery. Non-contact gland scanners, filtered ventilation, a low-dominant scent environment, emergency suppressant locks, and a private line to the palace medical wing.”

”And the security perimeter?”

”Three rings: Rohan internal guard on the outer perimeter, Alaminian palace guard on the street posts, and my team inside the house. No one enters without Lady Sylvia’s approval, yours, or General Lancaster’s.”

Thomas looked at him.

Florian added, ”Your mother insisted on adding herself.”

”Of course she did.”

”Lord Daniel requested a garden room be prepared for Lady Sylvia’s parents should they wish to stay without feeling absorbed by Rohan command.”

Thomas went still.

Florian noticed, as he noticed everything worth noticing. ”He said civilians deserve somewhere to breathe.”

Thomas looked away first.

”Yes,” he said. ”They do.”

”The house staff have been reduced to ten. All screened twice. No court placements. No one connected to Draxil, Andrea’s circle, temple charities, or private omega foundations.”

Thomas’s eyes sharpened. ”Private omega foundations?”

Florian’s voice lowered. ”Crown Prince Arion’s office added that category after the name Andrea gave.”

Claudia’s Palace.

The corridor seemed to remember the words.

Thomas adjusted his cuff. ”Any movement?”

”Saha reacted first.”

”Nero?”

”Prince Nero was reportedly awake when he should not have been. King Dax and Queen Christopher requested old family archives, private retreat records, and any mention of Claudia tied to dominant-omega sanctuaries.”

Thomas looked at him. ”Christopher recognized the name.”

”That is the assumption.”

”Noted.”

Florian hesitated. ”There is more.”

Thomas waited.

”Queen Heather has offered Rohan protection for Lady Sylvia under Lancaster household authority if Lady Sylvia accepts it.”

Thomas closed his eyes briefly.

Heather was furious.

Heather was also family.

”She sent that officially?”

”No. She sent it with three insults toward you and one threat toward anyone who calls Lady Sylvia convenient.”

Florian stopped, his gaze moving toward the sealed door behind them before returning to Thomas.

”She is being directly informed of your condition and Lady Sylvia’s. The moment you are both stable, she wants you to come to Rohan with your mate.”

Thomas went still.

Not because he was surprised.

Because Heather did not make requests like that unless she had already decided it was mandatory.

”With Sylvia,” he said.

”Yes, Commander.”

”To Rohan.”

”Yes.”

Thomas’s jaw tightened. ”Does she want us presented?”

Florian’s expression remained carefully neutral. ”Her Majesty’s exact words were that Rohan has spent long enough being informed of your life through Alaminian emergency reports, and if you have taken a mate, she would like to meet her before the next catastrophe uses formal channels.”

Thomas closed his eyes.

Florian added, ”There were more insults in the original phrasing.”

”I assumed.”

”And one comment about you apparently believing yourself an orphan with military clearance.”

Thomas opened his eyes. ”That sounds like Heather.”

”It was followed by General Lancaster agreeing.”

”Of course it was.”