The Prince's Arranged Marriage-Chapter 96: The Street That Swallowed Him II

Alexander didn’t chase like a man.

He chased like a force.

The alley smelled like damp stone and old refuse, the kind of place where the city forgot itself. Alexander’s boots hit the ground hard enough that the sound echoed back like a warning.

His guards followed in a tight formation, but Alexander was faster. He was always faster when it mattered.

Ahead, the alley split.

Two directions. Two shadows. Two men disappearing like smoke.

Alexander didn’t hesitate.

He pointed. "You, left. You, right. Find tracks. Find witnesses. Bring me answers."

His men surged without argument.

Alexander kept moving straight, because the center was where lies liked to hide.

He turned a corner and saw nothing but empty stone and a closed wooden door.

He didn’t slow.

"Lock the gates," he barked to the guard sprinting behind him. "Palace gates, city gates, river exits everything. Now."

"Yes, Your Highness!"

Another guard appeared from a side street, breathless. "We saw movement"

"Then follow it," Alexander snapped. "If you lose them, you lose your position."

The guard paled. "Yes, Your Highness."

Alexander pushed deeper into the narrow streets. People turned to stare. A few stepped back. Someone muttered a prayer.

They could pray later.

Right now, Alexander needed blood and truth.

He reached the small street near the servant’s gate again and saw the vendor cart at the corner. The old man stood frozen, clutching his apron with shaking hands.

Alexander stormed up to him, gaze hard. "Talk."

The man flinched so sharply he nearly fell. "Your Highness, he-he was right there"

Alexander grabbed the man’s shirtfront and hauled him close, voice low and lethal. "Which way."

The man pointed with trembling fingers. "That alley. Two men. They- they took him"

Alexander released him roughly and spun toward the alley.

Then he stopped.

Because something glinted on the ground.

Small. Metal.

Familiar.

Alexander crouched and picked it up.

A thin clasp simple, but marked with an etched crest that Alexander had seen in Lucien’s hands a dozen times on the road. Lucien used it to secure papers when the wind tried to steal them.

Alexander’s fingers tightened around it until the edges bit his palm.

The world narrowed.

This wasn’t rumor. This wasn’t pamphlets.

This was proof.

Lucien had been here. Lucien had fought. Lucien had left this behind.

Alexander stood slowly, breathing controlled, his mind sharpening into cold clarity.

He turned back to the palace gate.

The two guards Lucien had left behind were still there, faces pale, eyes wide with fear and guilt.

Alexander approached them like a storm given human form.

"Explain," he said quietly.

One guard swallowed hard. "Your Highness, he said he wanted air"

Alexander’s gaze didn’t move. "And you let him walk out."

The guard’s voice trembled. "He ordered us"

Alexander stepped closer. "If your prince tells you to walk into fire, do you follow him or do you protect him?"

The guard’s lips parted, but no sound came.

Alexander’s jaw tightened. He turned to the other guard. "Did you see anyone approach?"

The second guard shook his head rapidly. "No, Your Highness. It happened too fast. We- we didn’t"

Alexander’s voice dropped lower. "You didn’t do your job."

Both men flinched.

Alexander didn’t strike them. He didn’t need to.

His tone did it for him.

"From this moment," Alexander said, "you will tell me every face you saw in the last hour. Every servant. Every messenger. Every man who looked at you too long. And if you forget a detail, I will assume you’re hiding it."

"Yes, Your Highness," they choked out in unison.

Alexander turned sharply to one of his own guards. "Get them separated. Interview them individually. Compare their stories. If they’ve been bribed, I want names."

The guard bowed. "At once."

Alexander’s hand closed around the clasp again.

He could feel Lucien in it, Lucien’s stubbornness, his courage, his quiet defiance.

Alexander stared down the street.

The kidnappers had chosen this route for a reason. It was clean. Quick. Quiet. A servant’s gate, a narrow street, a cart to blend behind.

They were professionals.

Which meant they had planning.

And planning meant the palace was compromised.

Alexander pivoted and strode back toward the palace, cloak snapping behind him.

Inside, the corridors were already buzzing servants whispering, guards moving faster than usual. A minister appeared near a corner, face arranged into concern.

"Your Highness," the man began, "we heard there was"

Alexander didn’t slow. "Out of my way."

The minister stepped back quickly, eyes flashing with fear.

Good.

Fear created space.

Alexander reached his study and slammed the door behind him, then snapped orders to the men waiting there.

"Seal the palace. No one leaves without my permission."

"Yes, Your Highness."

"Send riders to the city gates. Double watch. No carts, no wagons, no boats everything inspected."

"Yes, Your Highness."

"Find every printing press tied to the pamphlets. Shut them down."

A pause. "Your Highness, under what authority"

Alexander’s gaze lifted. One look.

The man swallowed and bowed. "Yes, Your Highness."

Alexander leaned over his desk, hands braced on the wood, and forced himself to breathe.

Slow.

Controlled.

If he lost control now, they would win.

They wanted him raging. They wanted him reckless.

They wanted him loud enough that the council could call him unstable, dangerous, foreign.

Alexander’s fingers tightened, nails digging into the wood.

He didn’t need permission.

He needed speed.

A knock came at the door.

One of his men entered. "Your Highness, the alley search no sign. But we found fresh wheel tracks near the river lane."

Alexander’s eyes sharpened. "How fresh."

"Minutes," the man said. "And someone saw a covered wagon turn toward the old service roads."

Alexander’s heart slammed once.

Old service roads meant fewer witnesses. Cleaner escape.

"Send scouts," Alexander snapped. "Fast ones. And bring me the map. Now."

The man bowed and rushed out.

Alexander straightened and looked down at the clasp in his palm again.

He remembered Lucien earlier that morning, smiling too sweetly, agreeing too easily.

He’d known.

Lucien had planned this.

Lucien had stepped out anyway.

A quiet fracture of trust.

Not because Lucien didn’t love himbut because Lucien needed to feel like he still belonged to himself.

Alexander swallowed hard, jaw tight.

He should have held him tighter.

He should have refused to leave his side.

He should have

No.

Regret was useless.

Lucien was gone.

And now Alexander had one job: bring him back.

He tucked the clasp into his coat pocket like a vow, then strode out of his study and into the palace corridor with purpose.

As he walked, servants pressed themselves against the walls. Guards bowed deeper. Whispers died the moment he passed.

The palace was holding its breath.

Good.

Let it choke on silence.

Because Alexander was done asking politely.

And somewhere out there on a road, in a wagon, behind a locked door Lucien was counting turns, memorizing voices, leaving crumbs like a man who refused to vanish quietly.

Alexander’s mouth tightened.

"Find him," he murmured under his breath, not to his men, not to the palace

To the kingdom itself.

And then he raised his voice, cold and clear, to the guard captain rushing toward him.

"Call an emergency council session," Alexander ordered. "And tell them this: until my husband is returned, Avaloria has no patience for ceremonies."

The captain blinked. "Your Highness"

Alexander’s gaze cut through him. "Now."

"Yes, Your Highness."

Alexander kept walking.

The next move would ripple outward into the city, into the court, into the conspirators’ plans.

And as the palace tightened around him like a living thing, Alexander felt the shape of the coming storm settle into place.

Lucien had been taken.

So now the kingdom would watch what Alexander did next.