Caught by the Mad Alpha King-Chapter 351: Truths (1)

Andrew sighed like a man making a reckless decision with both eyes open, fully aware it was still the best option he had. He stepped forward and handed the envelope to Dax.

Dax accepted it with two fingers, careful and almost lazy, as if paper couldn’t possibly matter... until it did. His gaze dropped to the seal, the cream stock, and the old-fashioned weight of something meant to outlive people.

The amusement didn’t leave his face, but the predator inside him was already baring his teeth.

Rowan shifted half a step behind him, silent, but his attention locked in the moment the envelope appeared. Beth remained perfectly still at Andrew’s side, posture composed, eyes clear.

Dax turned the envelope once, reading what he could without breaking anything. Then he looked up.

"What is it?" he asked, tone light. "A love letter? A threat? A family tragedy wrapped in stationery?"

Andrew’s jaw tightened. "A will."

Dax’s smile remains, but a brow raised in question. "Whose?"

"Mattias Malek’s," Andrew said.

Beth dipped her head again, the smallest nod of confirmation. "It’s legitimate," she added calmly. "It was verified, and everything is perfectly legal and, most importantly, legitimate."

For a heartbeat the hallway felt too quiet, like the house itself had stopped pretending it wasn’t listening.

Dax’s eyes flicked toward the interior of the diplomatic residence, the direction Chris had disappeared earlier. That one glance said everything: he was already calculating impact, timing, and containment.

He opened the envelope and read the contents of the will with the experience of a man living and reading legal, alembicated documents.

His smile disappeared, and in its place a wicked grin appeared on his face. "I would recommend that you tell Chris about this." He returned the will to Andrew without folding it wrong, without creasing a single edge, as if he respected the weapon even while enjoying it.

Andrew’s fingers tightened around the pages. "I was going to."

"Good," Dax replied, still wearing that grin. "Rowan, guide them to the west drawing room."

Rowan dipped his head. "Yes, Your Majesty."

Dax didn’t look at them again. His attention had already shifted down the hall, toward where Chris was. The bond tugged at the edge of his focus like a hand on his collar, impatient.

"Tell him the facts," Dax said. "Keep it clean. He is a lot smarter than people give him credit for."

Andrew nodded, jaw tight. "I will."

Dax’s attention shifted to Beth for a heartbeat, an acknowledgement of competence more than courtesy, then back to Rowan.

"Keep the corridor clear," Dax added. "No interruptions."

Rowan’s mouth tightened. "Understood."

Dax stepped back, already turning away. "Now, if you’ll excuse me," he said smoothly, "I’m going to my office."

Andrew blinked. "You’re not..."

"I’m not hovering," Dax cut in, still calm. "Chris doesn’t need a king standing over his shoulder while he hears something that belongs to his blood."

Beth’s expression softened by a fraction, like she respected that choice even if she didn’t trust much else.

Dax’s voice stayed even. "If he wants me, he knows where I am."

Then he left them.

—

Dax closed the office door and let his weight rest on it. He tipped his head back, eyes shut for a moment, and exhaled trying to calm the instinct that kept snapping at the edges of his control.

Shield Chris.

Remove the threat.

Remove the pain.

Remove anything that could touch him.

But he wasn’t stupid, and there was more to do than cuddle a man who didn’t need cuddling.

He straightened, rolled his shoulders once, and pulled his phone from the inside pocket of his coat. One tap. A familiar number.

Trevor answered on the second ring, voice layered with shuffling paper and the clipped rhythm of someone who never had quiet around him.

"Dax. How does the capital visit go?"

"We have confirmation that what Adonis wrote in his little journal is true," Dax said.. "Andrew got his hands on Mattias Malek’s will. Claude should have been the viscount, like Adonis was ranting about in those three pages."

There was a brief pause on the other end, the kind that meant Trevor had stopped moving.

"Shit," Trevor muttered. "What are you going to do?"

"Two things," Dax replied, calm enough to be terrifying. "Chris finds out tonight about everything, Lucas’s ability and Adonis’ journal, even if you like it or not."

Trevor didn’t comment, he was ready to back Dax in the discussion if there was a need for proof, but he knew that Chris wasn’t one to be dramatic about serious things.

"And the second?"

Dax’s jaw tightened.

"After the honeymoon is over," he said, "I’m going to end Adonis as a problem."

Trevor exhaled, slow. "Meaning?"

"Meaning I want him found, contained, and put where he can’t reach Chris again," Dax said flatly. "Preferably six feet under, or better yet as a target for new military missiles. I will think about it."

Trevor didn’t argue. He just went quiet for a beat, then said, "Okay. What do you need from me?"

"For now? Nothing," Dax said. "Keep your people calm. If the capital tries to leak anything, sit on it. I’m leaving tonight."

"You’re really leaving tonight."

"Yes."

Trevor gave a humorless huff. "Chris is going to pretend he’s annoyed."

"I know," Dax said, and there was the faintest edge of satisfaction. "He can pretend on the plane."

"Call me if it escalates," Trevor said.

"It already has," Dax replied, and ended the call, rapidly taping another contact as he was determined to finish with anything that resembled a threat to Chris or himself. He had been patient for too long.

"Your Majesty," a voice said immediately. "Commander Rami."

"Adonis Malek," Dax said, and it wasn’t a question. "I want him."

A beat of silence, a man processing the order and sending status requests at the same time.

"We’ve had eyes on possible routes," Rami replied. "But he’s slippery. He’s using private channels. Safe houses. He’s..."

"I don’t care what he’s using," Dax cut in, voice low. "I care where he is."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Dax’s fingers tightened once around the phone. "You have full access. Personnel, drones, analysts and funds. If you need favors, you come to me, not to committees."

"Understood."

"I want him faster," Dax continued. "And I’m not negotiating with the word ’difficult.’"

Rami’s voice didn’t change. "Alive?"

Dax’s pause was short.

"Bring him in," he said. "Intact enough to answer questions. After that, the courts can decide how long he gets to breathe free air."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"You have two weeks," Dax added. "Fourteen days. I want him located and secured. If any country is hiding him, then war is on the table if they don’t cooperate."

Rami’s answer came immediately. "Yes, Your Majesty."

Dax’s eyes flicked to the office door, to the hall beyond it, to the drawing room where Chris was hearing a truth that would ruin his day.

"Do it quietly," Dax said, voice dropping even further. "I don’t want Chris reading headlines about his family bleeding out in public more than he already has."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Dax ended the call.

For one second he held the phone in his hand like it weighed something more than metal.

Then he set it down, squared his shoulders, and turned toward the door.