Caught by the Mad Alpha King-Chapter 354: One revenge

Chris closed his eyes and let himself slump deeper into the armchair, his right forearm thrown over his face like a man auditioning for tragedy on a stage.

"Please," he muttered. "Tell me it’s not about us."

"It’s about us," Dax said without mercy. Chris had asked for the full truth, and Dax wasn’t going to hand him a softened version just to make it easier to swallow. "It’s better if you read it yourself."

Chris didn’t argue. He just lifted his free hand, palm open, like he was accepting a curse.

Dax stepped closer and placed his phone into Chris’s hand with the first page already zoomed in.

Chris read in silence.

His eyes moved fast. He didn’t ask questions. He didn’t make jokes. He just absorbed, line by line, until the last sentence stopped being ink and started being the reality Chris started to hate.

When he finished, he exhaled slowly, like a man testing the edges of his self-control.

"I see," he said at last. He swallowed once. "I understand why you didn’t tell me."

Dax didn’t look pleased about being understood. He just looked tired, in the very specific way of a man who had carried something alone because he didn’t want it dropped on someone he loved.

Chris lowered the phone and looked up at him, eyes narrowed.

"But," Chris added, voice too calm, "can I be the one who kills him?"

Dax’s mouth curved into something dark and amused, without humor.

"Sure," he said. "After I get everything we need. First we take away his options. Then you get your turn."

Chris’s jaw tightened, like that compromise still felt like restraint. "I hate that you’re reasonable."

"I’m not reasonable," Dax corrected. "I’m thorough."

He moved and pulled Chris up from the chair and into his arms, his large frame a shield between the world and the one he truly loved.

"You’re not alone in this," Dax said quietly, voice close to Chris’s ear.

Chris let out a small sound that was equal parts sigh and insult. He pressed his face into the hollow of Dax’s neck and breathed in, like his body needed the pheromones more than his pride wanted to admit.

"Who else could tolerate you," Chris murmured, muffled against his skin, "if not me?"

Dax’s breath shook once, almost a laugh. His hand spread over Chris’s back, firm.

"Exactly," he said. "So let me do my part. You do yours. And tonight we go home."

Chris didn’t answer right away. He just held on a second longer, then pulled back enough to look at Dax’s face, eyes sharp again.

"This is all?"

"Until now? Yes."

—

Mia was... less than thrilled.

She took it in with a stillness that lasted maybe three seconds, and then the anger hit so fast it looked like movement was the only way her body knew how to survive it.

"No," she said, already standing. "No. I’m going to find him."

Prince Lucius was with her, close enough that he caught her by the arm before she could reach the door. He didn’t do it gently. He did it like a man who knew exactly what Mia would do if she got loose.

"Mia," he said, voice tight. "Stop."

"Let go," she snapped, twisting hard. "I’m not staying here—"

"You’re staying," Lucius said, and it wasn’t a request. He shifted his grip, bracing her with his body when she tried to lunge again. "Not because you’re weak. Because you’re furious and you’re smart enough to do something irreversible."

Mia’s eyes flashed. "Good."

Lucius’s jaw clenched. "That’s exactly the problem."

Andrew stood a step back, pale around the mouth, like he’d been punched by the fact that he’d finally said it out loud. Beth stayed at his side, calm and watchful, as if she’d already accepted that the Maleks didn’t do quiet tragedies.

Chris didn’t step between them. He didn’t soothe. He just met Mia’s eyes and said, blunt, "I know."

That did it.

Mia’s fight broke for a moment, and the sound she made was raw enough that it cut through the room. She shoved at Lucius once more, out of pure frustration, then stopped resisting and folded in on herself like the grief had finally caught up with the adrenaline.

Lucius didn’t let her fall. He didn’t say anything clever. He just held her there, tight, while she cried the anger that didn’t know where to go.

When she could breathe again, Mia wiped her face with the back of her hand, furious at herself for the tears.

"I want him to suffer," she said, voice broken at the edges.

"He will," Chris replied immediately.

Mia’s gaze snapped to him, sharp. "You’re saying that too easily."

Chris’s mouth curved, thin. "Do you think you are the only one that wants revenge?"

Andrew cleared his throat, voice strained. "Mia... Dax and I are handling it. We have people moving. We have leads. Your leaving this house to hunt him on instinct is exactly what he’d want."

Mia stared at him like she wanted to hate the logic just because it was logic.

Then she looked at Beth, as if trying to decide whether she could trust the woman standing beside her brother.

Beth didn’t flinch. She simply said, "If you move without protection, you become leverage."

Mia’s mouth tightened.

Lucius murmured, "Listen to her."

Mia glared at him. "Don’t you start."

Lucius raised a brow, unimpressed. "I’ve already started."

Chris let out a quiet breath and stepped closer to Mia, lowering his voice so it was just for her.

"I’m not going to tell you to calm down," he said. "You’re allowed to be angry."

Mia’s eyes glistened again, furious about it.

Chris continued, steady. "But you’re going to let them work. And when it’s time, when it’s safe, I’ll make sure you get at least one piece of revenge."

Mia’s lips trembled, then tightened. "One torture."

Chris’s eyes narrowed like he was doing mental budgeting. "At least one."

Mia gave a short, ugly laugh through tears. "Promise."

"I promise," Chris said.

That was the moment her shoulders finally dropped, just a fraction. Breathing without feeling like she was betraying their parents by staying still.

Beth watched the exchange with something unreadable in her eyes.

This was, objectively, a terrible moment to meet your fiancé’s family.

And yet... somehow it made it real.

She found out she liked them. Even when they were sharp. Even when grief turned them into weapons. She liked that they didn’t lie to each other when it mattered.

Most of all, Andrew surprised her.

He didn’t retreat from the ugliness. He didn’t try to smooth it into something palatable. He stood there and took the weight of it, because it was his family, and he was choosing to take any blow for them.

It made the marriage alliance feel less like a contract and more like something that could actually work.

By the time the guests left a few hours later, the house had returned to its careful quiet, with security doing its work, staff moving like they’d seen too much to ask questions, and the capital outside pretending it didn’t smell blood in the water.

Dax and Chris didn’t linger.

They left in the diplomatic convoy, the cars moving in a tight formation that didn’t invite curiosity. From there it was straight to the private jet.

And then the door sealed, the engines changed pitch, and the capital fell away beneath them.

Eight hours.

Eight hours of flight in front of them.

Eight hours in a metal tube in the sky, with nowhere to go but forward, and finally, home.