Shyla’s P.O.V.

Although I had no intentions to indulge in official melodrama, the presence of that cursed baton challenged my beliefs. My soul was trembling by catching a sign of slavery in this orphanage.

I quickly composed myself and ordered using my Alpha tone.

“Bring all the mops like this in the building!”

Grabbing that black long baton, I traced my fingers over it as the screams of my breeder camp’s fellows echoed in my mind. It was until I found the special button on it.

This specific click turned my painful memories of the past into the burning inferno of fury. Separating the mop from the baton, I thundered...