Her Alpha - Complete

Chapter 38

"Up you get. You're being moved."

Adrian opened his eyes slowly, adjusting to the light in the previously unlit cell. Standing in the doorway were two Guardians he'd never seen before. He rolled off the uncomfortable stretcher bed he'd been lying on, stepping over the tray Belikov had left him hours before. In the end, he had consumed the blood, food, and water his Alpha cousin had brought for him, so now it was filled with empty plastic.

"Where are you taking me?" he asked as one unbolted the cell door, fairly certain he already knew the answer.

"You're going to Guardian Headquarters," the Guardian said, cuffing Adrian's hands before placing a rough hessian bag over his head. With a loose enough weave to see where he was going, it would not allow him to make eye contact and compel his guards.

"Is that really necessary?" Adrian asked. Sure, he'd tried it on Abe in a moment of not quite sober stupidity, which is what got him here, but he wasn't likely to do it again.

"Orders," one Guardian barked. "Now hurry up—this is our last job before we come off shift."

Adrian knew there were many passages and rooms in the Palace basement. In fact, it was possible to travel from the Palace to Guardian Headquarters completely underground if you knew the route. So they surprised him when, after a few twists and turns, the Guardians guided him into an elevator. Sumptuously decorated, Adrian recognized it as one that serviced the Palace foyer and upper-level public areas. Assholes! They intended to walk him through the foyer and through the street to Guardian Headquarters!

Through his hood, Adrian could see that it was dark. Moroi daytime. And sure enough, the Palace vestibule was packed.

"Stand back, please... We're transporting Lord Ivashkov across to headquarters," one Guardian announced to a group of Moroi gathered nearby. He hadn't shouted it, but it was loud enough to be heard from some distance. They wanted everyone to know who was beneath the face bag. The tittering was instant. Bad enough people knew they had arrested him, but the cloth bag over his head announced he was accused of using compulsion without authorization. It would have raised less attention if they'd put him in a bright orange jumpsuit!

People had a lot to say about the incarcerated Ivashkov, the conversations continuing as the Guardians escorted him out onto the street.

"... I always thought he'd end up on the wrong side of the law. Look at how he treats the women he sees..." one snooty Royal matron declared to a friend as they passed him. Lady Patricia Tarus, Adrian suspected. No wonder she was shitty; she had three hideous spinster daughters he wouldn't fuck with someone else's dick, even if they paid him!

Taking the stairs from the pavement up to the entry to Guardian Headquarters, they quickly led Adrian down a series of long, sparse corridors until traveling down a set of concrete stairs and into the basement. Like the Palace basement it had solid concrete walls, but here was better kept—the walls painted in a sickly but clean glossy lemon-curd yellow, the hard floor covered with frayed but functional carpet squares.

"Got one for you," the taller Guardian escorting Adrian announced. "Another Ivashkov."

"They'll need their own wing at this rate," the processing officer announced, accepting some paperwork before lifting the sack from Adrian's head. "Bring him through, fellas."

Opening a heavy steel door, the Guardians walked Adrian through a corridor decorated much like the one outside. On each side were four rooms with solid metal doors and a glass panel at head height. Most were dark and apparently empty, although he could see 'Rufus Ivashkov' written on one.

"What's my uncle doing down here?" Adrian asked as they passed two open areas. On one side was a small lounge area with a television, opposite it was a table with six chairs. Both spaces were empty. "I thought the Royal Council were detained in suites in the Palace?"