Caught by the Mad Alpha King-Chapter 258: Fault lines

Chapter 258: Chapter 258: Fault lines
Ethan stood outside Chris’s old apartment with his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets, shoulders drawn in against the cold more out of habit than necessity. He’d been there long enough that the street noises had blurred into a background hum with cars passing, someone laughing too loudly somewhere down the block, and a door slamming a few buildings over.
The apartment block didn’t look like much from the outside.
That was the worst part.
The door had been locked again, properly this time, but Ethan knew better than to trust appearances. He’d already been inside. He’d seen the drawers left open in the wrong order, the couch cushions cut instead of tossed, and the books disturbed just enough to tell him someone had been looking through them.
This hadn’t been a robbery, but something more complicated.
Ethan exhaled and rubbed a hand over his face.
Seven months ago, Chris had been standing next to him on a construction site, both of them squinting at a printout and arguing about whether the load margin was conservative or just lazy engineering. Chris had been a beta, like him, or at least that was what everyone believed. Quiet, precise, and annoyingly right more often than not.
Then Chris had disappeared.
Not drifted away. Not slowly faded out of reach of a friend you have nothing in common with anymore. He’d been gone overnight, replaced by hurried calls filled with half-explanations and reassurances that never quite landed. Saha. Politics. Protection. A king.
It had sounded unreal. Worse... it had sounded rehearsed.
Then came the truth, dropped carefully, as if Chris had been bracing himself for Ethan’s reaction.
Dominant omega.
The rarest secondary gender in the world, revealed not as a confession but as a fact Chris had clearly lived with long before Ethan ever knew. Six months later, Chris wasn’t just alive and safe, he was married. To a king.
Ethan still didn’t know how to feel about that.
He didn’t like Dax. He’d never met him, never even heard his voice directly, but something about those first calls after Chris had been taken to Saha had rubbed him the wrong way. Chris had not sounded afraid, but rather restrained. Like someone speaking carefully because the wrong word might tip a balance.
Chris hadn’t asked for help.
That bothered Ethan more than anything else.
He looked back at the apartment block door, jaw tightening. Had this happened because Chris mattered now? Because he’d become visible in a way that attracted the wrong kind of attention? Or had something followed him, someone who didn’t care about titles or kingdoms?
Footsteps approached.
Ethan straightened instinctively as two men came into view, their movements calm and controlled. They stopped a respectful distance away.
"Ethan Miller," one of them said, as if confirming something they already knew.
"Yeah," Ethan replied. "That’s me."
"We’re here to take you somewhere safe," the man continued. "Your belongings have already been collected."
Ethan frowned. "By whom?"
There was a pause, not hesitation, but consideration. "Grand Duke Fitzgeralt’s security."
Ethan glanced back one last time at the apartment block, at the place that used to mean late nights and takeout containers and half-finished calculations spread across the table. It didn’t feel like his friend’s spot anymore.
"Alright," he said quietly. "Let’s go."
As he followed them down the street, Ethan couldn’t shake the thought that what he’d seen wasn’t an isolated incident. It wasn’t random. It was connected to Chris’s past, present, and whatever he’d become.
The car waiting at the curb made Ethan slow despite himself.
It was long, dark, and understated in a way that only very expensive things ever were, with no insignia and no unnecessary shine. One of the men opened the rear door for him without comment.
Ethan hesitated for half a second, then got in.
The door closed with a soft, airtight sound that cut the street noise off completely. Inside, the cabin smelled faintly of leather and something clean and neutral, the temperature set just right. The seats were absurdly comfortable. He sat stiffly anyway, hands clasped together in his lap, eyes tracking the city as it began to slide past the tinted glass.
The engine started without a sound he could feel.
"This is... a lot," Ethan said finally, more to break the silence than to complain.
The man in the front passenger seat glanced at him in the mirror. "I understand."
That was it. No apology. No justification.
They drove for a few minutes before Ethan spoke again. "So. What happens now?"
"You’ll be meeting with the Grand Duke first," the driver said. His tone was polite, professional, and gave away nothing. "After that, you’ll be accommodated somewhere secure. Close to your worksite."
Ethan blinked. "The Grand Duke wants to talk to me?"
"Yes."
Ethan let out a quiet, disbelieving breath and leaned back against the seat. "I’m a civil engineer. I build things that don’t fall over. I don’t usually get summoned by people with titles."
The man didn’t smile, but there was a faint softening in his eyes. "You’re also someone His Grace considers... connected."
That landed heavier than Ethan expected. Connected.
"Am I in trouble?" Ethan asked after a moment.
"No," the driver said immediately. "If you were, this would look very different."
Ethan snorted under his breath. "That’s comforting. In a terrifying sort of way."
The city thinned as they moved, buildings giving way to wider streets and quieter stretches. Ethan watched it all with the detached focus of someone trying not to spiral, grounding himself in angles, distances, and the rhythm of traffic lights. Familiar things. Measurable things.
"Chris knows?" he asked suddenly.
Another glance in the mirror. "His Grace knows you’re safe."
That wasn’t an answer, but it was close enough.
Ethan nodded once, jaw tight.
’His Grace... I have to get used to his new title.’
He exhaled, the changes around him becoming more real.
Ethan didn’t know what he was walking into, didn’t know what the Grand Duke wanted or how deep this situation went, but one thing had become very clear in the last half hour.
Whatever had torn through Chris’s apartment wasn’t just about him anymore.
And whatever Chris had become, it had dragged the ground beneath them both into motion.
Fault lines didn’t announce themselves.
You only felt them once you were already riding the shift.