Caught by the Mad Alpha King-Chapter 127: Unexpected guests

The convoy glided through the golden haze of late summer, the heat still clinging to the marble even as the sun dipped below the horizon. The Altera estate shimmered ahead, its white façade glowing faintly in the warmth of dusk.

Inside the car, Dax sat motionless. The last of the light caught in his hair, pale gold, nearly white, and turned it to fire. His unnatural violet eyes reflected the faint pulse of the city lights. He wore black from throat to wrist, the collar of his tailored shirt stitched with thin gold filigree that caught every flicker of movement.

He looked at ease. He wasn’t.

Killian’s voice came through the comm. "Interior scans confirm three heat signatures at the main dining room. Cornelia and her sons. No other staff present."

"Good," Dax said. His tone was soft, almost pleasant, like he wasn’t planning his revenge the moment Killian showed him the proof. "Dinner with family. How civilized."

The car stopped before the front steps. Killian was out first, signaling the guards to remain at the perimeter. Dax followed, the dry night air wrapping around him like static. The scent of jasmine drifted from the gardens, heavy and sweet enough to make the air feel slower.

Inside, faint, polite laughter echoed down the hall. The sound of silverware. The domestic illusion of safety.

Dax smiled faintly as he walked, unannounced, through the corridor. The servants who saw him froze, uncertain whether to bow or run. He didn’t acknowledge them. His footsteps alone carried the warning of what would come.

The doors to the dining hall were open.

Cornelia sat at the head of the table, the picture of refinement, her sons beside her: Adrien, nineteen, all posture and polished pride, and Angus, fifteen, still soft with youth but already learning the elegance of his line.

They froze when he entered.

Dax crossed the threshold with the quiet certainty of a man who owned the ground he walked on. The lamplight touched the gold embroidery at his collar and belt, gilding him in something almost divine.

"Don’t stop on my account," he said lightly. His voice was smooth and pleasant, a tone that could belong at a gala toast or at a hanging. "It’s been a long day. I thought I’d drop by for dinner."

Cornelia rose at once, every inch of her training flashing to the surface. "Your Majesty." Her composure was flawless, except for the faint tightening at her throat. "What an... unexpected honor."

"Unexpected," Dax echoed, walking toward the table. "I do seem to have that effect lately."

He stopped by the empty chair opposite her and glanced at the table, then at her, his purple eyes shining in the low light. Cornelia was wearing omega robes, delicate and expensive, and the collar she received from her alpha and father of Dax.

"I see you weren’t expecting company," he said.

Cornelia’s fingers tightened around her napkin before she placed it neatly on the table. "Had I known, I would have prepared something more appropriate."

"I doubt that," Dax murmured. He smiled at the boys, who both stiffened under his gaze. "Gentlemen. Still alive, I see. That pleases me."

Adrien swallowed hard. "Yes, Your Majesty."

"Good." Dax’s eyes flicked briefly to the crystal decanter at the center of the table. "May I?"

Cornelia hesitated. "Of course."

He poured himself a glass of water, the motion slow, almost elegant. "You must forgive the intrusion," he said, voice low. "The palace has been... lively these days." 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

Cornelia managed a tight smile. "I heard about the disturbance. Hanna Osler, wasn’t it? A dreadful misunderstanding, I’m sure."

Dax sipped the water, the smile fading. "That’s one word for it."

He set the glass down and leaned slightly forward, elbows resting on the armrests. "Another word would be treason."

The room went still. The cicadas outside suddenly sounded too loud.

Cornelia’s sons exchanged glances. Adrien’s jaw tightened, and Angus appeared perplexed but afraid to speak.

"Your Majesty," Cornelia began carefully, "if this is about the Treasury report..."

"It’s not." Dax’s tone was quiet, final. "It’s about you."

Cornelia blinked. "Me?"

"You authorized a ceremonial requisition yesterday morning," he said. "08:45. Treasury logistics, ceremonial inventory division. You rerouted a restricted item through your department, a bond collar, and had it delivered to my consort’s suite."

Adrien looked up, startled. "Mother...?"

"Don’t interrupt when adults talk," she hissed, too sharp to sound calm.

Dax’s gaze drifted lazily across the table. "Don’t scold him. He’s just curious. You raised them to recognize danger, didn’t you? Well done, they’ve recognized it."

Cornelia drew in a slow breath, the mask returning piece by piece. "I process hundreds of requests, Your Majesty. I trusted my staff to manage the details."

"Hanna Osler was my staff," Dax said. "You signed for her. You made her your tool. And you used her to send a message meant to fracture my bond."

Cornelia’s expression didn’t waver. "Your Majesty," she said, with the slow, careful grace of a woman accustomed to surviving men like him. "You’ve always known my loyalty. I would never endanger you or your..."

"Spare me the recital," Dax interrupted mildly, with the sound of someone indulging a liar out of boredom.

A servant entered quietly through the side door, young, dressed in white, setting down a small tray beside Dax with the same careful reverence one used in temples. Silver gleamed faintly against linen as the table was reset: fresh glass, folded napkin, and polished cutlery.

Cornelia didn’t even glance at the server. "If someone in my department misused my signature, I’ll take full responsibility," she continued, her voice smooth like she rehearsed it. "You must view the situation as what it is: a clerical error, not malice. I’ve never acted against the Crown. You of all people should know that."

Dax said nothing.

He was tracing the edge of the knife beside his plate with one finger, testing its balance, the motion quiet and almost absentminded, though nothing about him ever was.

Adrien’s gaze flicked from the blade to his mother, then back to Dax. He recognized that silence.

Cornelia kept speaking, mistaking it for mercy. "Your father trusted me. You were a child when I swore fealty to this house. I kept it standing while you rebuilt. You may call me ambitious, but never disloyal."

Dax’s violet eyes lifted from the knife to her face. The faintest hint of amusement curved his mouth. "That’s the same thing you said the last time I warned you, isn’t it?"

The air shifted. Adrien went still. Angus’s fork froze halfway to his mouth.

Cornelia faltered, just a fraction, but recovered instantly. "Warnings are part of ruling, Your Majesty. I understand. I accepted them."

"No," Dax said softly. "You ignored them."

He leaned back, turning the knife once in his hand before setting it down again, neatly, in perfect alignment with the plate. His gaze moved to Adrien.

The boy didn’t look away; he understood the order without words.

Keep your brother out of this.