Caught by the Mad Alpha King-Chapter 311: Gift from the groom.

Andrew adjusted the cuff of his shirt and checked his reflection one last time, more out of habit than vanity. A dark suit with a neutral cut and no unnecessary insignia. Glasses with a gold frame. Rings on, because he wasn’t about to meet a king unarmed.

He didn’t feel like a guest.

The door chimed softly. One of the palace attendants, a man dressed impeccably, deferential, and clearly trained never to look too closely at anyone who might start a diplomatic incident, bowed.

"My lord," the man said, voice smooth. "His Majesty is waiting for you."

Andrew exhaled through his nose.

"Thank you," Andrew replied, his tone polite, clipped, and professional. The voice of a man who had once stood in courtrooms and dismantled careers without raising it. "Lead the way."

The walk through the inner corridors was brief, as Dax seemed to choose the guest area and not his office. That meant the king didn’t want Chris to find out about this meeting. At least not yet.

He stopped at the threshold of a smaller receiving room. There was only a long table, soft light, and the obvious presence of a dangerous person who didn’t require an audience.

Dax was already there.

He stood near the window, massive frame relaxed, hands loosely clasped behind his back. White-blonde hair caught the light, violet eyes sharp but not hostile.

"Andrew Black," the king said, turning. His voice was calm, measured, and irritatingly respectful. "Thank you for coming."

Andrew inclined his head. "Your Majesty."

No bow. That was intentional.

Dax didn’t comment on it.

They regarded each other for a brief moment, two men measuring distance—one who ruled by birth and force of will, and one who had carved his authority out of law, survival, and responsibility.

"I assume this isn’t about seating arrangements," Andrew said dryly.

Dax’s mouth curved, just slightly. "No."

"Good," Andrew replied. "I’d be disappointed. It is already weird enough that I will have a king as a brother-in-law."

Dax accepted that without comment, which in itself was telling. He didn’t move back toward the window this time. He stayed where he was, closer, the conversation narrowing.

"There’s something else," Dax said. His tone shifted into one softer than he used when ordering, but clearly just because Andrew was family. "Your parents."

Andrew’s posture changed immediately. The way it always had when a case crossed from theoretical to personal.

"What about them?" Andrew said, carefully neutral.

"I want to know what you know about their death," Dax said.

Andrew held his gaze for a second longer, then exhaled slowly through his nose.

"I investigated it," he said plainly. "The moment I received my certification and jurisdiction in our old town, I started digging as quietly as possible. I knew better than to make noise without teeth."

Dax inclined his head, not surprised. "You didn’t tell Christopher."

It wasn’t an accusation. If anything, there was an uncomfortable amount of understanding in his eyes.

"Of course not," Andrew replied immediately, a sharp edge slipping into his voice. "And before you even think about turning that into a parallel about how Christopher had the right to hide his secondary gender from me... don’t."

Dax didn’t interrupt but was clearly amused at the man trying to order him around.

Andrew continued, words measured but heavy. "Christopher was a child who had just lost his parents. Mia was barely holding together. I was twenty-four, suddenly responsible for two lives, and drowning in paperwork, debt, and grief. I wasn’t going to hand him a half-formed suspicion and call it honesty."

"What did you find?" Dax asked quietly.

"Enough to be uncomfortable," Andrew said. "Not enough to indict anyone."

He leaned back slightly, arms crossing again, posture familiarly prosecutorial.

"The official report said a sleeping driver," he went on. "That happens. Fatigue kills people every day. I would have accepted it if the details didn’t keep... resisting."

Dax’s eyes sharpened.

"The road," Andrew said. "That’s what bothered me first. It wasn’t a transport route. Not for that kind of truck. It was a service road, mostly for local use, with no reason for long-haul traffic. No reason for a fatigued driver to be there at all."

"And the driver?" Dax asked.

"Dead," Andrew said. "Which closed the loop very neatly."

Silence stretched between them.

"I pulled what I could," Andrew continued. "Traffic records, delivery schedules, GPS fragments. Everything was either missing, corrupted, or technically compliant while being practically useless. Someone cleaned the trail early, and it was professionally done."

Dax folded his hands behind his back. "You believe it was deliberate."

"I believe," Andrew corrected, "that it was allowed. There’s a difference. I never found proof that someone caused it. But I found enough absence to know no one tried to stop it and no one wanted it reopened."

Dax absorbed that without comment.

"And then I hit a wall," Andrew said. "Jurisdictional dead ends. Lost files. People who suddenly didn’t remember conversations they’d had with me the week before." His mouth tightened. "That’s when I stopped."

"For Christopher," Dax said.

"For my siblings," Andrew replied. "For stability and survival."

He looked directly at Dax now. "So no, I didn’t tell him. And I don’t regret that. I won’t apologize for protecting him from a truth I couldn’t prove."

Dax nodded once. "I wouldn’t ask you to."

Andrew studied him carefully, the silence stretching long enough to become deliberate. "Then why are you asking now?"

"Because I have resources you didn’t," Dax said simply. "And because Adonis Malek tried to kidnap Christopher."

That landed differently.

Andrew didn’t react outwardly, but something in his posture shifted, his spine straightening, his attention locking in with the precision of a man who had once built cases out of fragments and instinct.

"I have the feeling," Dax continued, measured and controlled, "that he may also be responsible for your parents’ death. Or at least connected to it. But I need proof."

He moved as he spoke, slow and deliberate, crossing the room because thinking, for him, was physical. The kind of man who ordered the world by walking through it.

Andrew watched him for a beat longer than was polite.

"You are terrifyingly patient about this," he said at last, head tilting slightly as he measured the king anew. "You would have torn him down by now if this were anyone else. You wouldn’t be waiting for proof."

Dax smiled. And gods, Andrew didn’t understand how Chris could be so relaxed around this man.

"True," he said calmly. "But Adonis isn’t operating alone. There’s an organization behind him. Old networks. Old money. And the church - what’s left of the Palatine one, anyway." His gaze sharpened. "Here, they were wiped out the moment Christopher walked into this palace."

Andrew exhaled slowly. "And you think Adonis is one of their pieces."

"Yes," Dax replied. "Or their attempt at a replacement."

Andrew’s mouth curved faintly, humorless and sharp. "And you want my help."

"I want your mind," Dax corrected calmly. "Your instincts, yes. Your experience with buried cases. But I’m not naïve enough to pretend that’s all." He met Andrew’s gaze directly. "I also know you would want revenge."

Andrew didn’t deny it.

Dax continued, voice even, almost conversational. "Take it as a gift from the groom’s side." Andrew let out a short breath that might have been a laugh in another life. "You’re offering me sanctioned vengeance as a wedding favor."

Dax only winked.