Caught by the Mad Alpha King-Chapter 386: Domestic Evidence

"We’re busy," Ethan said, like this explained the entire picture.

Chris didn’t open his eyes. "Mmhmm."

Dax took a slow, measured step closer. With her head fully raised and her pale lashes lowered, Tania’s expression was less menacing and more commanding: behave.

Ethan glanced at Dax’s face, read something there, and his expression shifted - still amused, but edged with purpose.

"So," he said quietly, "are you done with lunch and diplomacy, or do I need to start a countdown?"

Dax’s gaze stayed on Zion. "Done."

"Good." Ethan reached for the tablet and paused it with one tap. The room went even quieter without the narrator insisting on motives. "Because Zion and I have been waiting for him," he added, nodding toward Sirius as if Sirius were the irresponsible parent who’d been late to pick up his child from daycare.

Sirius exhaled once, the tension in his shoulders easing despite himself. "I’m right here."

"And yet," Ethan murmured, eyes flicking to the door as if timing routes in his head, "still late."

Chris mumbled something against Zion’s hair, voice thick with sleep and faintly offended at reality itself. "It’s not our fault we married powerful husbands."

Ethan let out a quiet huff, halfway between a laugh and a sigh. "Speak for yourself."

Sirius’s mouth twitched despite the tension still lodged under his ribs. "I heard that."

"Good," Ethan said, utterly unapologetic. Then, softer, because Zion was still asleep and the room had that fragile noon peace to it, "You’re still late."

Chris shifted a fraction on the sofa, careful not to jostle Zion. "Unrealistic expectations," he mumbled, like it was a diagnosis.

Ethan’s eyes flicked to him, amused. "You’re going to start saying that in meetings, aren’t you?"

Chris didn’t deny it. He only sighed and added, almost plaintively, "Nobody lets me have delusions."

Sirius stepped closer. His hand hovered over Zion’s back for a second, then slid under him. The child made a tiny sound, more breath than protest, and curled automatically, still asleep as Sirius lifted him.

Chris’s fingers twitched as if to follow the warmth leaving, then stopped when Dax’s hand brushed his hairline, grounding him in place.

Ethan rose quietly, smoothing his shirt like he was resetting himself into "public." "Come on," he said to Sirius, and then, just a touch softer, "Let’s go before someone remembers we exist."

—

The door shut behind Sirius and Ethan with the soft finality of people who understood timing.

The suite settled. Just the low hum of the city somewhere beyond the drawn curtains and the slow sound of Dax breathing like he was counting each inhale as an act of restraint.

Chris blinked a few times, lashes dragging, as if his body had been dragged back into consciousness against its will. He stared at the empty space where Zion had been, then at Dax’s hand on his hairline, and something in his expression shifted from sleepy to offended in a very specific direction.

"You let them take him," Chris accused, voice hoarse with sleep.

Dax didn’t move his hand. "He’s with his fathers."

Chris stared at him for a beat, then lifted both arms without a shred of dignity or negotiation. "Hug."

It was a demand issued by a man who was fully awake now and absolutely unwilling to pretend he wasn’t.

Dax’s mouth twitched.

Then he bent, wrapped an arm around Chris’s shoulders, and pulled him in, careful of the angle, careful of pressure, the kind of careful that only happened when fear lived under love.

Chris pressed his face into Dax’s shirt like it was a decision. Like if he held on tightly enough, Dax couldn’t turn into a weapon again.

Tania shifted behind Chris, a massive pale presence adjusting, tail flicking once in approval before she settled with her head on her paws.

Chris breathed slowly, grounding himself, then muttered against Dax’s chest, "You smell like you were about to commit crimes."

Dax exhaled, a sound that might’ve been a laugh in a different world. "I was having lunch."

"That’s not what I meant," Chris said, muffled.

Dax’s hand slid over Chris’s hair once, then stilled again, as if he didn’t trust himself to keep moving.

Chris pulled back just enough to look up at him. His eyes were clear now, sharp despite the softness of the moment.

"What happened?" Chris said, and it wasn’t a question so much as a command delivered quietly.

Dax held his gaze for a second too long.

Then he said, "I found him."

Chris went very still.

Dax watched the change like he’d caused it and regretted it in the same breath.

"In Rohan," Dax added, voice even. "Sirius brought me coordinates of his location."

Chris’s mouth parted, then closed. His hands tightened on Dax’s shirt.

"And?" Chris asked.

Dax’s thumb brushed the edge of Chris’s cheek once, like an apology he didn’t know how to speak. "And I’m going to deal with it."

Chris let out a long breath. "When?"

Dax’s mouth twitched, but his eyes stayed too sharp. "Aren’t you going to ask me to take you with me?"

Chris looked at him for a beat, unimpressed in the specific way only Chris could manage while half-hugging a king.

"No," he said simply.

Dax’s brows lifted a fraction.

Chris’s hand slid, more protective than he wanted to admit, over his own stomach. His expression tightened, then smoothed again into something controlled.

"The man has already inflicted enough suffering," Chris said, quieter. "I’m not risking our child for something you can do with a flick of your very handsome fingers."

Dax blinked once.

Then, very softly, like the compliment hit somewhere it wasn’t supposed to, "That was manipulative."

Chris’s mouth curved. "Efficient."

"And you really won’t try to follow me?" Dax asked, like he didn’t trust the universe to let him have this much cooperation.

Chris rolled his eyes. "I’ll try to follow you emotionally. Does that count?"

Dax huffed, a sound that might’ve been laughter if the world wasn’t on fire. "Chris."

"I’ll stay," Chris said, and there was a hard edge under it now, a promise instead of surrender. "I’m not stupid. I’m just... violent in spirit."

Dax’s gaze softened for a second, then firmed again. "Soon," he answered, finally giving him what he’d asked. "As soon as I step out of this room."

Chris’s arms tightened around him for a heartbeat, like his body reacted before his pride could pretend it didn’t care.

"Fine," Chris muttered. "But you’re coming back."

Dax’s voice went low. "Yes."

Chris tipped his head back slightly to look at him. "Alive."

Dax raised a brow in offended pride. "Yes."

Chris nodded once, satisfied, then added, like it mattered just as much, "And don’t get dramatic about it. If you get shot, I will be furious."

Dax grinned. "Chris, did you forget who you married? I’ll be home in two days. One and a half is just traveling."

Chris stared at him.

Then his eyes narrowed slowly, the way they did right before he started making the universe regret its choices.

"Two days," he repeated.

"Yes," Dax said, still smiling, as if this was comforting.

"It’s barely noon," Chris said flatly. "And you’re already budgeting your absence like you’re a consultant."

Dax’s grin sharpened. "I am efficient."

"You’re also delusional," Chris replied, then pointed at his own stomach like it was evidence in court. "Do you know what two days feels like when you’re pregnant?"

Dax blinked once. "Two days."

Chris leaned closer, voice lowering into something deadly calm. "It’s fourteen naps. It’s three hunger crises. It’s one emotional breakdown over a piece of fruit that looked at me wrong."

Dax’s mouth twitched. "A fruit—"

"Don’t," Chris warned. "I will cry out of spite."

Dax exhaled a laugh he tried to swallow. "Fine. Two days and I return with gifts."

Chris’s eyebrows lifted. "Gifts?"

"Yes," Dax said, like this was obvious. "I’ll bribe you."

Chris’s mouth curved traitorously. "Smart."