Caught by the Mad Alpha King-Chapter 372: Godfather

Chris ended the call the way he ended most crises lately, by not throwing his phone across the room purely out of spite and personal growth.

He set it down very carefully on the desk, like it might explode, then stared at the urbanistic plan in front of him as if the proposed ’community lake’ had been written by Caelan himself. His pen was still between his fingers. The red ink on the margins looked suddenly too tame for the kind of rage simmering under his ribs.

He tried to go back to work.

He lasted nine seconds.

Chris pushed his chair back and stood so fast the legs scraped the floor. The sound was ugly, final, and for a moment he just stood there with one hand on the desk, breathing through his nose like he was trying to remember what it felt like to be a reasonable person with a job.

’Caelan called Ethan an experiment.’

Chris’s jaw tightened until it hurt.

He walked out.

The palace corridors were quiet in that late-hour way with everyone moving like a machine designed to never let its king notice inconvenience. Chris moved through it like a glitch. People stepped aside before they fully registered why.

He didn’t knock on Dax’s office door.

He opened it.

Dax looked up from his desk with the slow, predatory ease of a man who was never surprised by a breach of protocol. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes sharpened instantly, attention locking like a trap closing.

Rowan was there too, half bent over a document, already regretting his life choices before anyone said a word.

"Chris," Dax said, voice mild. "You’re either about to kiss me or declare war."

Chris crossed the room without hesitation, planted his hands on the edge of Dax’s desk, and leaned in.

"I want to be the godfather," he said.

Rowan blinked. Once. Twice. Like his brain needed a second to locate the context in reality.

Dax’s brows lifted a fraction. "Of whose child?"

"Ethan’s," Chris said, like that was obvious. Like there were dozens of options and he’d picked one. "Sirius’s child. The child Caelan is already treating like a stain."

Dax raised a pale brow, impressed. For a second the corners of his mouth twitched, like the universe had tossed him a ridiculous gift and he was deciding whether to laugh or weaponize it.

"Ethan got pregnant by Sirius," he repeated, and the humor in his voice was thin and sharp. "That’s... new."

Rowan exhaled through his nose... resigned in that specific way only people who guarded important idiots could be.

Chris didn’t give Dax room to enjoy it. "Caelan called him an experiment."

The humor vanished from the room like a candle snuffed out.

Dax didn’t move. But his eyes went colder, and the bond tightened - quiet, immediate pressure, the kind that made even seasoned officials remember they were standing within range of something that had hunted before it ruled.

Rowan’s hand shifted slightly on the tablet, knuckles whitening for a second. His gaze dropped as if he was already turning the sentence into routes, protocols, and contingencies.

"When," Dax asked, very softly, "did he say that?"

"Today," Chris said. "Implied the baby would be an abomination. Questioned whether Ethan was legitimate." His jaw jumped once.

Dax’s gaze stayed on Chris. "Is Ethan safe right now?"

"Yes," Chris said, then forced the rest out, because it mattered. "Safe because Sirius is there. But that’s not the point. The point is Caelan thinks he can say that and the world will nod politely."

Dax leaned back, slow. "He can’t." He tapped once on the desk, the rings on his fingers catching the light in a very dangerous way - like even his jewelry had a warning label. "Do you think Ethan likes jewels as gifts or weapons?"

Chris blinked. Once. Because sometimes Dax’s brain took a sharp turn into territory that sounded insane until you remembered he was a king and kings did threaten people with accessories.

"Both," Chris said automatically. Then he frowned. "Why?"

Dax’s mouth curved in an entertained grin. "Because I’m not a stingy godfather."

Rowan made a noise low in his throat - the sound of a man realizing his job description had just expanded to include baptism logistics and international symbolism and possibly jewel-based intimidation.

Chris stared at Dax like he was trying to decide whether to be offended on principle or impressed on instinct. "You’re not the godfather," he said, slow, dangerous. "I am."

Dax’s grin widened, unbothered. "You’re the one with the title," he agreed, and then he leaned back like a man settling into his favorite argument. "You are my husband too. We vowed to share everything."

Chris dragged a hand down his face. "Fair."

Rowan made a thoughtful hum, eyes drifting to the ceiling like he was asking the universe for patience.

Dax’s gaze flicked to him. "Don’t start," Dax warned, still smiling.

"I wasn’t going to," Rowan said, deadpan. "I’m just wondering if your wedding vows included ’and also all future godchildren acquired through spite.’"

Chris pointed at Rowan without looking away from Dax. "Don’t encourage him."

Rowan lifted both hands in surrender. "I’m not. I’m documenting. For the post-mission report."

Dax’s smile sharpened. "The report will be classified."

Chris exhaled, slow. "You don’t get to weaponize our marriage vows for this," he said, but his voice had lost some of its bite, softened at the edges by the fact that Dax wasn’t wrong, and that was infuriating.

Dax’s eyes warmed, just enough to be unfair. "I can weaponize anything," he said. "It’s a marketable skill."

Chris’s mouth twitched, then flattened again as the weight returned - Ethan’s voice on the phone, the word ’experiment,’ the idea of a baby being treated like a mistake before it even existed in the world.

"Now I have to make him agree," Chris said, and the humor in his tone was brittle, the kind you used to keep your hands from shaking. "Good thing he used my name when he dealt with Caelan." He leaned in again, gaze sharp as a blade. "Blackmail it is."