Caught by the Mad Alpha King-Chapter 262: Safe and watched

Chapter 262: Chapter 262: Safe and watched
Dax listened to the sound of running water from the bathroom and let it anchor him.
Chris was awake, moving, and alive, and close enough that Dax could feel the faint echo of his presence even through stone and doors. It settled something low in his chest, the way knowing your weapon was within reach settled a soldier before a fight.
He had already showered. Already burned the last traces of sleep from his body and mind. His hair was still faintly damp at the nape, the rest pulled back. The black shirt sat close to his frame, Sahan cut and weighty, the gold embroidery catching the light without trying to. Over it, the long coat fell to his knees, structured and severe, and the gold mantle rested over his right shoulder like a promise the court understood better than words.
He was dressed to be seen.
The phone was warm against his palm.
"No," Dax said calmly, pacing once across the room before stopping near the window. "Not yet."
Trevor Fitzgeralt’s voice came through the line, steady and displeased in that familiar way of his. "If a Church observer is already bold enough to approach him at a worksite, waiting carries risk."
"Moving carries more," Dax replied. He watched the city below, eyes unfocused. "Ethan is not stupid. He already knows something is wrong. If we tighten the net too visibly, the Church will notice him noticing."
For a moment Dax could hear Trevor weighing his words carefully, the same way he always did.
"So we let them think they’re unopposed," Trevor said.
"We let them think Ethan is unimportant," Dax corrected. "We just go with the narrative Ethan has started: Chris is now powerful and doesn’t look back to his old friend."
Trevor sighed. "Fine, we need time to dispose of the remnants of the Church in Palatine; they were working with Vivienne."
Dax’s mouth curved into something that was not quite a smile.
"Keep her in the hospital," he repeated evenly. "Under watch. Benedict will try to reach her. Or silence her." A pause. "Not that there’s anything useful left of her."
Trevor made a low sound of agreement. "She’s already talking to ghosts. Whatever she knew burned out with the rest of her."
"Ghosts still listen," Dax said. "And Benedict is fond of believing he can control the dead."
Silence followed, thick but efficient. The kind that only formed between men who had coordinated wars without raising their voices.
"We’ll keep Ethan where he is," Trevor said at last. "Same housing. Same route to the site."
"Good," Dax replied. "The Church watches patterns. We give them none."
"And Christopher?"
Dax’s gaze lifted again, unbidden, toward the bathroom door. Steam curled faintly beneath it now, carrying the clean edge of rain and soap. Chris’s scent threaded through the air, sharp and alive.
"He doesn’t need to carry this," Dax said. "Not yet."
Trevor exhaled softly. "You’ve changed."
"I’ve adapted," Dax corrected. "There is a difference. I will inform him about his friend being safe, but there is no need to startle him. He has enough new things to deal with."
A faint huff of amusement came through the line. "I’ll inform you if anything shifts."
"You’ll inform me before that," Dax said, already ending the call.
He slipped the phone back into his coat and stood still, listening.
The water shut off. Fabric brushed skin. The soft, absent-minded hum returned, off-key and utterly unguarded. Chris moved through the space like it was his, like he belonged there without question.
Dax closed his eyes for a brief moment.
They were circling Ethan. Probing old fault lines. Digging into a past they thought was still vulnerable.
They were wrong.
Dax opened his eyes, his expression settling back into something composed and lethal just as the bathroom door handle shifted.
Whatever the Church thought it was reaching for, it was already too late.
—
The door opened on a breath of steam and the clean, rain-bright scent that always announced Chris before he spoke.
He stepped out barefoot, hair still damp and curling slightly at the ends, sleeves half-buttoned as he finished tugging them into place. He looked up, eyes catching immediately on Dax, and something in his posture eased in a way that was small but unmistakable.
"You’re dressed already," Chris said, mildly accusing. "You said you’d wait."
"I did," Dax replied. He crossed the room without hurry, stopping close enough that Chris’s scent sharpened, rain after stone. "For the important part."
Chris arched a brow. "Which is?"
"Ethan is safe," Dax said simply. "Trevor has eyes on him. Quiet ones. Nothing has changed in his routine, and nothing will unless it has to."
The shift in Chris was immediate and unguarded. His shoulders dropped, breath leaving him in a slow exhale he hadn’t realized he was holding.
"Thank you," he said, quietly. "I know you didn’t have to tell me this early."
"I wanted to," Dax replied.
Chris hesitated, then stepped closer, fingers brushing the edge of Dax’s coat as if checking that he was real. "I don’t like that they went anywhere near him."
"Neither do I," Dax said. "Which is why they won’t get closer."
Chris studied his face for a moment, then nodded, trusting in a way that still startled Dax when he let himself think about it.
"Okay," Chris said. "Then I’ll try not to spiral before breakfast."
Dax’s hand came up to the back of his neck, thumb resting just under the hairline, its warmth bleeding into Chris’s skin. He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Chris’s mouth.
"Eat first," Dax murmured against his lips. "Then spiral later, if you must."
Chris huffed a quiet laugh. "You’re impossible."
"I’m in love."
He guided Chris toward the door with a light touch at his lower back, steering him down the corridor toward the breakfast room. Staff appeared and disappeared smoothly, eyes respectfully lowered, and movements clean and distant. Chris noticed and he understood why most of the nobles didn’t try to have a close relationship with their staff. He felt better than having to explain why he had sex in the wardrobe in the past days.
Breakfast was calm. Familiar, a routine setting between them.
Dax stayed only long enough to make sure Chris ate more than the bare minimum, to trade a few low-voiced comments about the day ahead, and to press one more brief kiss to his temple before duty pulled him away.
"Parliament all day?" Chris asked.
"Unfortunately," Dax replied. "They’ve discovered opinions again."
Chris smiled. "Tragic."
Dax’s expression softened as he looked at him. "You’ll be with your family."
"Denise and Milo, yes," Chris said. "Mia’s already planning something. Andrew left yesterday, so I think she’s decided this is her moment."
"Good," Dax said. "Let them know you. Not the title."
Chris’s fingers curled briefly into the sleeve of his coat before letting go. "Come back in one piece."
"I always do," Dax said. Then, after a beat, more quietly, "And I’ll come back to you."
He left then, the gold mantle catching the light as he disappeared into the rhythm of the palace.
Chris watched him go for a moment longer than necessary before turning back toward the table, the rain-soft scent, and the day opening in front of him with family, quiet truths, and just enough space to breathe.