Caught by the Mad Alpha King-Chapter 433: Fine

"No," Chris said, because ’no’ was efficient, and he had paperwork to do and a baby trying to climb him like he’d recently discovered the concept of ambition.

Nero had reached the stage where he understood he possessed limbs, leverage, and free will. Which meant he was currently attempting to scale Chris’s torso with the focus of someone trying to overthrow a government.

Chris kept one arm hooked around Nero’s middle - half support, half containment - while the other hand pointed accusingly at the man behind the desk.

Dax didn’t look up right away.

He sat in his office like the world obeyed calendars because he asked it to, posture immaculate, presence heavy, a gold-and-black pen tapping softly against the document in front of him as if the sound itself could make the situation final.

"Chris," he said, voice even. "This is not something we negotiate."

Chris stopped pacing long enough to stare at him. "Why not?"

"Because it’s my part of the agreement with Alamina. Saha offers help when the pheromone beasts surge." Dax’s mouth twitched with faint amusement as he tracked Nero’s repeated attempts to launch himself toward the desk like he intended to crawl across diplomatic contracts.

Chris tightened his hold. "We have Isaac and Mason. They can go."

"They are going," Dax replied, calm. "I’m going too."

Chris scoffed. "Why do you have to go as well?"

Dax inhaled as if he were about to say something gentle, something appeasing.

"My moon—"

"Don’t moon me now, Dax." Chris stepped closer, because apparently this argument was going to happen in Dax’s personal space whether Dax liked it or not. "You’re not leaving."

Dax’s brows rose, mildly offended. "I’m not leaving the country forever."

"You’re leaving me," Chris said flatly, as if that were the only metric that mattered. "We haven’t been separated in how long? A week? Two? Since Nero was born, you’ve been in my pocket like a very tall, violent accessory."

Dax laughed under his breath. "That is not an accurate description of a king."

"It is an accurate description of you," Chris said, and Nero chose that moment to wriggle hard, little hands pressing at Chris’s chest like he’d decided Chris’s skeleton was optional.

Chris adjusted him effortlessly and continued without losing momentum. "We have capable people. You can send them. You can stay."

Dax set the pen down carefully, the way men did when they were about to become unyielding.

"Chris," he said, and his tone wasn’t sharp, but it was worse. It was calm. "They requested me."

"They requested the king," Chris corrected. "They can have the King’s troops. They do not need the King as a person."

Dax’s gaze lifted fully now, warm and steady. He stood and came around the desk with slow, controlled steps, like he was approaching something he refused to handle roughly.

"My moon," he tried again, softer.

Chris tilted his head. "No."

Dax stopped in front of him. "You’re saying no to me leaving, or no to me calling you ’my moon’ while you’re refusing to let me do my job?"

"Yes," Chris said immediately.

Dax’s mouth twitched.

Chris looked down at Nero, who was still determined to climb into history, then back at Dax.

"I don’t want you going without me."

Dax blinked once. "Chris—"

"It’s not because I think you can’t handle it," Chris continued smoothly, as if preempting the speech. "You’re a very good fighter. You’re also Dax. You could survive a riot and still look offended that it happened."

Dax exhaled like he was trying not to smile.

Chris pressed on. "I just don’t want to be on one continent while you’re on the other. I’m not used to it anymore. I don’t like it. And we both know I’m not going to suddenly become reasonable because you’ve decided the schedule says so."

Dax’s gaze was filled with possessiveness and affection.

"You’ll be fine here," Dax said, but it sounded like a statement of logistics, not comfort. "The palace is secure. You have staff. You have guards."

Chris’s eyes narrowed. "I also have a husband who belongs in my bed."

Dax’s brows lifted.

Chris didn’t blink.

There was a beat of silence where Dax tried to decide how to respond to that without either laughing or dragging Chris into his lap like a scandal.

Nero made an impatient sound, as if he were tired of adults speaking too slowly.

Then Nero reached toward Dax’s shirt - because Nero, like everyone else in the family, had a preference - and grabbed it with both hands.

Dax’s gaze dropped to him.

Chris watched it happen, mouth already curving because Nero was a menace and that was obviously genetic.

Nero’s lips parted.

His face scrunched in concentration.

And then, with perfect, devastating clarity...

"Mama."

The word was small. Soft.

Chris froze.

Not because he was overwhelmed, but because he was offended.

Absolutely, personally offended that his child had chosen this exact moment to debut language like a dramatic actor arriving late to a scene.

Chris stared at Nero. "Did you just..."

Nero looked at him and repeated it, more confident, like he’d decided he was pleased with his own performance.

"Mama."

Dax didn’t move.

Then his gaze slid slowly to Chris, and his expression was warm.

Tender and very much dangerous for a man like him.

"He’s right," Dax said quietly.

Chris’s eyes narrowed. "Do not."

Dax’s mouth curved. "You are his mother."

Chris made a sound that was very close to a scoff, except his throat tightened anyway because biology was a traitor and so was love.

He pressed his forehead briefly to Nero’s hair, a short, private moment, then lifted his head again like he’d regained control of himself.

"Fine," Chris said, his voice steady. "Now that I’ve been emotionally blackmailed by my own child..."

Dax’s eyes warmed further.

"—you’re still not going without me," Chris finished. "Pack me. Pack Nero. Pack whatever terrifying amount of weapons you insist on bringing. We’re going."

Dax stared at him for a long moment, the calculation visible behind his eyes.

Then his expression changed. The warmth didn’t leave; it simply got sealed behind duty. Instinct. The kind of control that had built Saha back up from ash.

"Christopher Altera," he began.

Chris straightened instantly.

Dax never used his full name unless he meant it. Unless he was about to turn the room into a boundary. 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

"You will stay here and wait," Dax continued, his voice calm and absolute. "I’m not taking you into territory saturated with aggressive pheromones. Not with your body still recalibrating. Not when you could go into heat and the entire world would smell it."

Chris’s gaze sharpened. "That’s dramatic."

"It’s accurate," Dax corrected, unyielding. "Otto is family. I won’t let him down now."

Chris held his stare, jaw tight furious at being handled like he was delicate.

"Fine," Chris said, clipped. "But I don’t like it."