Caught by the Mad Alpha King-Chapter 404: Dagger

Dax looked genuinely puzzled. "Must there be a dagger?"

"Yes," Chris said flatly. "Always. You don’t do anything without a second edge."

Dax’s eyes glittered, and Chris knew he’d hit it.

"The second edge," Dax said slowly, "is that I also banned the sale of suppressants to unlicensed distributors."

Chris went still.

Outside, a firework cracked open in the distance, bright enough to flash through the window and make the room jump with color. The river shivered with reflection.

Chris’s voice lowered. "You did what?"

Dax’s tone stayed calm. "The palace will subsidize them. Properly. Through approved clinics. Not through back-room agreements. Not through... obscurely licensed clinics and pharmacies."

Chris didn’t move.

He could feel the word settle between them like a stone dropped into water. It made ripples. It made memories.

He swallowed once, slowly.

"You can’t ban an entire shadow market by decree," Chris said, carefully. "That’s not how reality works."

Dax’s mouth tilted. "No. But you can make it expensive to operate."

Chris’s gaze sharpened. "How expensive?"

Dax looked back out at the city, like he could see the ripple effect already spreading through streets and clinics and offices. "Expensive enough that anyone who tries will have to crawl through my security apparatus to do it."

Chris exhaled through his nose. "Almost seven years and you still didn’t let it go?"

Dax didn’t answer immediately.

He adjusted Nero with the same unconscious precision he used for everything he loved. The baby’s cheek stayed pressed against his chest, white-blonde hair catching stray light from the fireworks outside.

Then he turned fully to Chris, a brow raised high in question. "Did the child make you forget what husband you have?"

Chris stared at him for half a second.

Then his mouth twitched in a smile closer to quiet, horrified admiration.

"No," Chris said, voice low. "I just didn’t expect you to actually succeed while I was pregnant and half-asleep."

Dax’s eyes glittered, pleased in a way that belonged in a confession booth. "My moon, you were not half asleep."

Chris lifted his mug a fraction, deadpan. "I was an entire season."

Dax made a soft sound that could have been laughter if he were a gentler man. "You were carrying my heir. You were allowed to be tired."

"I was allowed to delegate," Chris corrected, and his gaze sharpened with fond menace. "I didn’t allow you to rewrite an entire sector of the kingdom without me noticing."

Dax’s smile deepened. "And yet."

Chris leaned back in the chair by the window, blanket still on his lap out of principle, watching the fireworks paint the river in trembling gold.

"You didn’t let it go," Chris repeated, but the accusation wasn’t there anymore. It was almost... impressed. "You didn’t even wait until I could sit through a full council meeting without wanting to bite someone."

Dax’s tone stayed calm. "I didn’t need you in council for this."

Chris’s brow lifted. "That’s a bold statement for a man married to me."

Dax’s gaze softened, then sharpened again. "I didn’t need you because you would have made it louder."

Chris snorted quietly. "That sounds like praise."

"It is," Dax said simply.

Chris’s eyes narrowed as if that was unfair.

Outside, a firework cracked open, white and violet, lighting the edges of Altera’s rooftops. Nero’s fingers flexed once in his sleep, then settled again, fist still pressed against Dax’s chest like he’d stamped him.

Chris watched that little movement and felt the familiar internal calculation shift.

"Alright," Chris said at last, "tell me what you actually did."

Dax’s mouth tilted. "You already know what I did."

"I know the shape of it," Chris corrected. "I want the details."

Dax held his gaze for a moment, like he was deciding how much honesty to give, not because Chris couldn’t handle it, but because Dax enjoyed watching Chris assemble the full picture and realize the scope.

Then he spoke, calm and precise.

"I centralized distribution," Dax said. "Official clinics only. Subsidized, tracked, audited. If a pharmacy wants to sell suppressants, it needs an active license, an oversight contract, and a registry key."

Chris’s eyes gleamed. "Registry."

"Yes."

"And anyone outside the registry?" Chris asked, already knowing.

"Becomes contraband," Dax said.

Chris exhaled slowly. "Which means it has to move."

Dax nodded once. "And anything that moves leaves a trail."

Chris’s mouth curved faintly. "That’s the first edge."

Dax’s eyes glittered. "You wanted a second?"

Chris gestured with his mug. "Always."

Dax’s voice dropped a fraction, quiet enough that it felt like a private oath. "The second edge is that I didn’t stop at Saha."

Chris’s brows lifted - there it was, the part that made him genuinely impressed.

"You got international alignment," Chris said, not as a question, but as recognition. "While I was pregnant."

Dax’s smile turned smug for half a second, then softened again. "I got compliance."

Chris’s gaze sharpened. "From whom?"

Dax’s tone stayed even. "Palatine signed under medical safety standards. The border coalition agreed to shared verification on lab shipments. The medical councils took ’donations’ from people who prefer discreet research - so I made discreet research impossible to supply."

Chris’s eyes widened just a fraction.

"You closed the reagent channel," Chris breathed.

Dax nodded once.

Chris leaned forward a little, openly impressed now, like he couldn’t help it. "That alone kills half of them."

"It starves them," Dax corrected, calm. "Quietly."

Chris’s lips parted in a low, incredulous laugh. "You did this while I was napping."

Dax’s brows lifted. "You were nesting and growing a child. I think that from the two of us, you were the hardworking one."

Chris stared at him like he’d just witnessed a rare astronomical event: Dax, voluntarily giving credit without an ulterior motive.

"You’re flirting," Chris said, suspicious.

"I’m stating a fact," Dax replied smoothly, as if the distinction mattered. "You were building a person. I was simply... rearranging paperwork and threatening international councils."

Chris’s mouth twitched. "Simply."

Dax’s expression stayed serenely offended. "Compared to pregnancy? Yes."

Chris let out a quiet laugh and shook his head once, still genuinely impressed, still slightly shocked. "That’s insane coming from you."

Dax’s eyes glittered. "My moon, I watched you grow an heir, and I remained alive. I am humble now."

Rowan’s voice drifted from the doorway without warning. "He’s lying. He’s never humble."

Dax didn’t look away from Chris. "Rowan will be reassigned to the northern deserts."

Rowan’s tone remained flat. "We don’t have northern deserts."

Dax smiled like a man who could invent geography. "We will."

Chris made a soft sound that could have been a laugh, then lifted his mug again, drinking slowly, eyes still on Dax over the rim.

"So," Chris said, his voice mild in the way it only got when he was about to be sharp again, "you’re telling me you bullied Palatine into compliance while I was - what did you call it - nesting."

Dax’s gaze softened, unguarded. "Yes."