Caught by the Mad Alpha King-Chapter 402: Grandpa Clearance (2)

Sahir didn’t look at Rowan. He looked at Dax first, because Sahir was Sahir, and loyalty had rank in his bones. Then he looked at Chris.

His gaze softened the moment it landed on the bed. On Chris, propped up and still pale in that way healing left behind. On the enormous white tiger at the foot of the bed, watching him like she could smell treason. On the small, bundled weight against Chris’s chest.

The heir.

Sahir inhaled slowly.

"Your Majesty," he said, voice steady, addressing Chris with the same respect he used in council.

Chris’s mouth twitched, unimpressed. "Don’t ’Your Majesty’ me in my bed." 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝙚𝔀𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝒐𝒎

Sahir’s lips pulled into something that wasn’t quite a smile but was close. "As you command."

He took one step in.

Then another.

Every movement was measured, like he didn’t trust his own body not to betray him by rushing. Like he’d rehearsed composure so many times it had become armor.

Chris watched him like he watched everyone reaching for his son: sharp, suspicious, and protective.

Dax watched him like he watched only family.

Sahir stopped at the side of the bed and did not reach. He didn’t even lean too close. His hands remained clasped in front of him, fingers tight enough to show restraint.

His eyes moved to Nero.

And, for the first time, Sahir’s composure broke - not loudly, not dramatically, not into sobs like Chris feared, but into something quieter and more dangerous: emotion that went straight under the ribs.

"That," Sahir said softly, "is an outrageously handsome child."

Chris’s lips pressed together, fighting the instinct to be smug. "He’s acceptable."

Dax’s mouth twitched. "He’s perfect."

Sahir’s gaze flicked to Dax briefly, something warm and old passing between them, then returned to Nero.

He leaned closer by the smallest degree, careful not to shadow the baby too much. Nero didn’t wake. He just breathed, slack and peaceful, a tiny weight of warmth.

Sahir let out a breath that sounded like surrender.

"His hair," Sahir murmured, almost to himself. "The color is... ridiculous."

Chris finally allowed the smile to show, faint and sharp. "My genes didn’t even try."

Sahir’s brows rose slightly, and then, because Sahir was Sahir, he delivered it with the same dry precision he used when dismantling ministers.

"They didn’t even file an appeal," Sahir said.

Chris gave a quiet, breathy laugh that surprised even him.

Dax looked delighted, like this was the correct tone for history.

Sahir’s gaze stayed on Nero. "White-blonde," he said again, reverent and offended at the same time. "And those eyes."

"Purple," Dax said softly, like a prayer.

Sahir nodded once, throat working. "The bloodline made itself known."

Chris shifted slightly under the blankets, adjusting Nero’s position without waking him, and Sahir’s hands twitched - an instinct to help, to touch, to be allowed close - before he locked them back into stillness.

Chris noticed.

He pretended he didn’t for two seconds out of pure spite.

Then, with a long exhale like he was conceding territory in a war, Chris tilted Nero the tiniest bit so Sahir could see his face more clearly.

"There," Chris muttered. "Look. That’s your six minutes. Use them."

Sahir’s eyes softened so much it was almost painful to witness. He didn’t reach. He only looked, memorizing, like a man who had spent his life protecting a kingdom and had been handed something smaller and somehow more terrifying.

"Hello," Sahir whispered, voice barely there. "Little prince."

Nero’s mouth moved once in his sleep, a tiny, annoyed pout, as if the world was interrupting.

Sahir’s lips trembled, just a little, and then his expression was composed again, the armor snapping back into place. He cleared his throat softly and looked at Chris.

"You did well," Sahir said, quiet but absolute. "Both of you did."

Chris’s throat tightened in a way he hated. He masked it with sharpness, because that was safer. "I didn’t do it for praise."

"I know," Sahir said. "You did it because he is yours."

Dax’s gaze warmed, and for a moment the room felt like family without the usual politics mingled in.

Chris looked away first, because he always did when something got close to tenderness.

Tania shifted at the foot of the bed, a soft rumble in her chest that sounded like approval.

Sahir glanced down at the tiger, then back up, dry humor returning like a lifeline. "And it seems the heir has... adequate security."

Chris’s mouth twitched. "She’s the only one I trust to bite the right people."

Dax said, pleased, "Tania has excellent judgment."

Sahir’s eyes lingered on Nero one last time, then he straightened, stepping back with visible effort, like leaving was its own discipline.

"My time," Sahir said softly, as if reminding himself he could survive this without breaking, "is finished."

Chris’s gaze flicked to him. "Yes."

Then, quieter, almost grudging: "You can come again. Later. When I’m less... stitched."

Sahir blinked, and the gratitude that flashed across his face was swift and controlled and still unmistakable.

"As you command," he said, voice controlled.

Dax’s hand settled on Sahir’s shoulder as he guided him back toward the door, a brief squeeze that said more than words ever did.

Sahir paused at the threshold, looking back one last time.

His eyes landed on Nero’s fist still tangled in Chris’s shirt like a claim.

He exhaled, very slowly.

"The omega’s genes didn’t even try," Sahir murmured again, almost fond now.

Chris huffed. "I’m telling you. Not even a negotiation."

Dax’s smile turned sharp with pride. "He took what he wanted."

Sahir’s lips curved, small and genuine. "Like a true heir."

And then he stepped out, the door closing softly behind him, leaving the room warmer than it had been a moment before, quietly changed, like something had finally settled into place.

Chris stared at the ceiling for a long second.

Then he muttered, very low, mostly to himself, "Grandpa."

Dax’s voice came from beside him, smug and soft. "Yes."

Chris glared without heat. "If you start calling him that out loud, I’ll bite you."

Dax leaned down, careful not to disturb Nero, and brushed his mouth against Chris’s temple. "That’s my moon."

Chris’s eyes closed, defeated in a way that still felt like choosing.

Outside, somewhere far beyond the private wing, the palace continued to pace.

But inside, the heir slept like a small tyrant, and for a handful of minutes, even Saha’s history had learned to whisper.