Caught by the Mad Alpha King-Chapter 353: Details

Chris left the west drawing room without looking back.

Not because he didn’t trust Andrew to tell Mia. He did. That was the problem, Andrew would do it properly, he would carry it like a duty and pretend it didn’t hurt him.

Chris didn’t want to watch.

He held the cream envelope in one hand and Beth’s folder in the other, grip a little too tight, like paper could slip away and take the truth with it. The corridor outside was quiet in that controlled way only a king’s security detail could produce.

Rowan was nowhere in sight, which meant he was exactly where he needed to be.

Chris walked fast, not running, but close. His thoughts kept trying to jump ahead to Mia’s face, her voice, the way she would go very still before she got angry. He pushed it down. One thing at a time. If he started splitting himself now, he’d lose control in a hallway and give the capital exactly what it loved.

He reached the office wing.

Dax’s temporary office was at the end of the corridor, already a fortress that only few people could enter it.

Chris stopped in front of the double doors.

He stared at the wood for half a second, breath steadying, and hated the fact that he had to steady at all.

Then he knocked once.

From inside, Dax’s voice came immediately, low and controlled.

"Come in."

Chris opened the door and stepped inside, closing it behind him with care.

Dax was standing, phone in hand as if he’d just ended a call or was about to make one. His jacket was still on. His posture was too still for someone who claimed he was calm. The room smelled faintly like coffee and alpha pheromones.

Dax’s eyes went straight to Chris’s hands.

Then to Chris’s face.

Chris crossed the room and placed the envelope and the folder on the desk, lining them up neatly, like neatness could keep everything from spilling.

"Andrew brought this," Chris said, voice flat. "Beth verified it."

Dax’s gaze dropped to the seal. "I know."

Chris’s head snapped up. "You already knew."

Dax didn’t flinch. "Andrew handed it to me in the corridor. I read it."

Chris held his stare, jaw tight. "So you kept it from me."

"No," Dax said evenly. "I didn’t hand it to you in a hallway."

Chris let out a short, humorless breath. "That’s a very careful excuse."

Dax exhaled slowly. He’d wanted to keep the full truth away from Chris a little longer - at least longer than the two days he realistically had before everything spilled on its own. His hand flexed on instinct, the sting in his palm snapping him back into focus.

"It’s a long story," he said at last.

He shrugged off his coat and tossed it onto the nearest armchair. Then he moved around the desk and sat, posture controlled but restless, like sitting was an inconvenience he tolerated for Chris.

Chris lifted his brow and slid into the opposite chair with careless movements. He looked like he’d decided he wasn’t leaving until he got the truth.

"I have time," Chris replied simply.

Dax settled back against the chair, crossing one leg over the other with that controlled, predatory elegance he slipped into when he was about to say something that would change everything you thought you knew.

"Well," he said. "Let’s start at the beginning. Lucas is what’s known as a siren."

Chris’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t interrupt.

"It means his pheromones can pull someone toward him," Dax continued, voice even. "Not by force. By showing them what they want most... what they crave, what they’re missing. Like a siren. Even if it leads them somewhere stupid. Even if it ruins them."

"Dominant omegas with this pheromonal profile have an... ability, let’s say. In truth, it’s a curse. They can rewind time, be reborn, change the timeline of their life - any of this terminology works - if they suffered enough for their soul to break and wished to restart or change their life."

Chris said nothing for a few minutes, fidgeting as he tried to process what he’d heard. "Are you telling me someone already took advantage of that?" he asked at last.

Dax’s gaze held his, and there was a flicker of pride in it, because Chris always went straight to the point.

"Yes," Dax said. "That’s the beginning."

Chris’s jaw tightened. "Lucas."

"Yes. That’s the beginning. The rest... he lived two lives before this one. One in which he was happy with Trevor - until some point, obviously - and the second where he suffered until the day he died."

Chris’s throat moved once. "Do I want to know how?"

"That depends," Dax said, blunt. "You can use what I’m telling you without the details. If you want the details, there’s a copy of his journal, memories, or notes, whatever you want to call them."

Chris shook his head immediately. "No. I’m not invading his privacy." His eyes sharpened. "I want to know why you didn’t tell me."

Dax exhaled and began rolling his sleeves up with slow, deliberate movements, like the physical action helped him put his thoughts in order.

"I found out pieces of this the day I got this," he said, flexing his injured hand. The sting grounded him. "Lucas doesn’t remember much from the first life. Trevor remembers fragments, mostly the bad parts, the point where things went off the rails."

Chris’s gaze didn’t leave him. "And?"

"And they found out something else," Dax said. "About Benedict."

"The odd cardinal?" Chris asked.

"Yes. Him." Dax’s tone stayed flat. "Trevor killed him."

Chris’s brows drew together. "What?"

"The public version," Dax continued, "is that Benedict died from the compound he was taking to maintain a dominant signature. The same thing Ethan got exposed to when he tried to save his friends." His eyes didn’t flicker. "The truth is Trevor poisoned every batch that reached Benedict for six months before he died."

Chris stared at him. "Why didn’t he tell Lucas?"

"Because Lucas would blame himself," Dax said simply. "He can joke that his husband is a killer for a living, but he can’t actually carry the reality of it. And Trevor didn’t want Lucas to regret it enough to... wish for another restart."

Chris let out a quiet, rough breath. "Crap."

Dax nodded once, like he agreed with the understatement.

"After Benedict was gone," he added, "Trevor found three scanned pages of a journal in his possession. They weren’t Benedict’s."

Chris’s eyes sharpened. "Whose?"

"Adonis Malek’s," Dax said. "And Benedict wasn’t just a cardinal with a morbid hobby. He was an accomplice."