Help! the four Alpha's are obsessed with me.-Chapter 192 Secret stalker.

The figure emerged from the clubhouse and hailed a taxi. Once inside, he gave the driver directions in a clipped tone, and as soon as he was finished, he fell back against the cozy car seat, exhaling a long-held breath.

"Fuck, Charles, that was intense. Look at that ass," Charles muttered to himself. He tried to suppress the images of the men’s physiques, but as expected, they flooded back into his memory with vivid clarity.

Those dicks are like life-sized hot dogs, so yummy to feed on. Charles sighed, feeling like a fool.

He was obviously turned on, so why hadn’t he just asked for their numbers?

But the thought alone brought a prickle of heat to his neck. It would have been too embarrassing. What if they had rejected him? What would have become of his dignity then? Shame would have clothed him entirely.

He stared out the window at the passing city lights. He still couldn’t believe that he was done with school and yet couldn’t land a decent job.

Draven had offered to help, and Daniel was equally adamant about seeing him through his struggles, but Charles had stubbornly rejected them both. The one thing he never wanted was to be a leech. He refused to take advantage of the kindness of those closest to him.

"You’re family! We don’t mind!" He could still hear Daniel’s voice echoing in his head, but he had remained firm, eventually renting an apartment of his own.

It was a miserable place that leaked whenever it rained, but he refused to move. It was cheap, and it was his. He didn’t crave a glamorous life; he just wanted a quiet, peaceful space. Even if it wasn’t the best lifestyle, it gave him a complete peace of mind.

It was a shame he wouldn’t see those two gorgeous men again. He searched his feelings and confirmed what he already knew: he was still very much unattached. A virgin, through and through.

Nothing had changed. The taxi pulled up at a grocery store where Charles hopped out. He needed food and a reliable hangover cure. As he approached the entrance, something familiar on the electronic signboard at the highest pinnacle of the building caught his eye.

A crowd had gathered, watching the news broadcast on the giant screen. Intrigued, Charles stopped to look. There, displayed for the whole world to see, was Daniel Lancaster himself, flanked by his two husbands.

"Breaking news: Daniel Lancaster is alive. He has officially accused his father, Alessandro Lancaster, of sexual abuse, murder, and the attempted murder of his own son. The infamous Golden Heir is back to reclaim what was stolen from him years ago, causing pure chaos and confusion." As the news broke, the crowd erupted into frantic gossip.

Then, the camera panned to the men behind Daniel—men Charles recognized all too well. One was Draven Swift, his childhood friend, and the other was Xylander Wolfe. They were both Daniel’s husbands, a fact that clearly rattled the onlookers.

"Two men? Is he that horny? What about the ladies?" a woman in the crowd grumbled.

The moment the words left her mouth, the atmosphere turned eerie. Every head in the vicinity snapped in her direction as if she had uttered a forbidden abomination.

"Did you just insult our Daniel?" two women nearby demanded. The critic immediately fell silent, but it wasn’t just the women; the men in the crowd moved in closer, too. Charles could see the sparks of a riot beginning to fly.

He hurriedly pushed into the store.

After a quick exchange with the salesgirl, he grabbed his goods and scampered out, desperate to avoid the brewing trouble. Luckily, he made it to a different section of the road before things spiraled out of control. He stopped for a moment to catch his breath.

What was happening? What had Daniel done? He immediately logged into his phone. The internet was exploding with headlines surrounding Daniel and the Lancaster dynasty.

"Mr. Lancaster is currently being arrested for various heinous crimes, along with his wife. Both are spending the night in jail. What will become of his election campaign? Will he lose everything, or bounce back? And Daniel Lancaster—is this revenge? If so, it is being served piping hot."

Charles felt a knot of worry tighten in his chest. This was dangerous. Daniel was venturing deep into a revenge plan, but what about his children? What about his new family? Wouldn’t they be harmed in the crossfire?

He felt a sudden, urgent need to see them—to try and talk some sense into Daniel’s head. But even as the thought formed, he knew it wasn’t guaranteed to work.

Daniel was notoriously stubborn; once he set his mind on something, it was impossible to reverse. If his own mates were with him, they had surely tried to convince him to stop and failed woefully. Why would Daniel pay attention to him?

Saying a short prayer for his friend, Charles shook his head and continued his walk. His house was close now.

It was a secluded neighborhood, far from the chatter and chaos of the Manhattan elite. As he reached his block, he offered smiles and greetings to the few elderly neighbors he passed before heading to his room.

Unlocking the door, he entered the dark apartment. It was a modest one-room space, but so meticulously arranged and well-kept that it was hard to believe a bachelor lived there. Charles loved his home sparkling clean. He dropped his bags on the table and was heading toward the kitchenette when his phone began to ring.

I wonder who it is?

He shrugged and answered the call, only to freeze when a familiar voice vibrated through the speaker—a voice he thought he wouldn’t hear again so soon.

"The fuck? How did you get my number? Your boys..." he started to ask, his body bubbling with a strange, nervous excitement.

"That can wait for later. How was your journey home? I hope you got back safe and locked your door... because I can see it’s open. You never know who could creep in and attack you while you’re sleeping."

Charles halted, his limbs shaking. What? Had he been followed?

"Thomas, I know it’s you. Stop this madness. My door isn’t open," Charles declared defiantly. But when he looked toward the entryway, his heart dropped. The door was indeed standing ajar.

He lost his voice. He really had been followed.

"You know, that’s stalking. It’s not appropriate, especially without my consent," Charles managed to state. Thomas’s laugh boomed through the static of the phone, deep and resonant.

"Don’t panic, love. I just wanted to be sure you weren’t preyed upon. With a beauty like yours, who knows what would happen? I couldn’t let you go all alone."

Charles could sense the care and the dark, passionate yearning through the line. He knew how crazy it sounded—a guy like Thomas falling in love?—but the sensation he was getting proved otherwise.

"You’re scaring me, Thomas..." Charles finally admitted.

Thomas went silent for a beat. "I won’t anymore, baby. Just go ahead with your work."

The call ended abruptly. Charles stood there, speechless and confused. It was a lot to process. He moved to the kitchen to start his meal, his thoughts so plagued by those men that he nearly burned himself.

After preparing rice with a savory chicken sauce, he ate on his bed while scrolling through his phone. Tomorrow, he decided, he would visit Daniel and have a serious talk. But tonight, he was staying put.

Back online, he saw that the chaos from earlier had turned bloody. At the very spot where he had been standing to read the news, the woman who had insulted Daniel had been stabbed. A deadly fight had broken out, leaving several people seriously injured and headed for the hospital.

Charles shuddered. If he hadn’t left the crowd when he did, that could have been his fate. Then the realization hit him: Thomas had likely been following him then, too.

Would Thomas have rescued him? Realizing how delusional he was starting to sound, he forced himself to stop thinking about it. He pulled out his laptop to do some research, but exhaustion eventually won out, and he fell asleep on the edge of the bed.

A few moments later, the window of the room creaked open. A figure crept inside—Thomas, now wearing a shirt.

"My beauty... how stunning you are. Sleep well, baby boy."

He lifted Charles in a bridal carry, gently tucking him properly into the bed.

"Sleep tight."

Thomas leaned down, pressed a lingering kiss to Charles’s forehead, and then vanished back out through the window, pulling it shut behind him.