Caught by the Mad Alpha King-Chapter 380: Stunned

Sahir went very still, the stunned silence of a man whose heart had just tripped over something it didn’t know how to deal with.

His gaze snapped to Chris.

Chris slept on, face relaxed in a way that felt almost indecent for someone who ran an empire through paperwork and spite. His hair was a mess from his own fingers and Dax’s, his robe loose, and his mouth slightly parted. He looked younger like this, softer, like the palace had finally stopped asking him to be sharp for five minutes and he’d immediately collapsed out of pure exhaustion.

Sahir’s throat worked, and he did not speak or move for two minutes.

Killian watched him with that maddening calm that always meant he’d already made three contingency plans and one insult list.

Tania blinked slowly from the carpet, judging Sahir like he was a potential threat.

Rowan’s voice stayed low. "Prime Minister."

Sahir blinked once.

His eyes were wet. No one said anything about it, because saying anything about it would be suicidal.

Dax’s hand remained in Chris’s hair, but his gaze had shifted to Sahir, alert in a way that wasn’t hostile, just... watchful. Like a wolf noticing another wolf was bleeding and deciding whether it was weakness or devotion.

Sahir swallowed again, and his voice came out ruined in a whisper.

"How long have you known?"

Dax’s answer was quiet. "Two weeks ago."

Rowan’s head snapped a fraction toward Dax, the movement sharp enough to be a question without becoming insubordination.

Killian’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes flicked like he was updating a mental ledger.

Sahir stared at Dax, as if his brain had to restart.

"Two weeks," Sahir repeated, because repetition was how you kept yourself from collapsing. "You have been walking around with this information for two weeks."

Dax didn’t blink. "Yes."

"And you didn’t..." Sahir cut himself off, because the last thing he was going to do was raise his voice in a room with a sleeping omega and three predators waiting for an excuse to commit crimes. He lowered it even further, scandalized. "You didn’t tell me."

Dax’s thumb brushed Chris’s temple again, slow and careful, the touch of a man who had decided his hands were permitted to exist only gently. "Chris wasn’t ready."

Sahir’s face did something complicated: pain first, then anger, then that old, exhausted tenderness that had nothing to do with politics.

"Officially, Chris found out two days ago," Dax said quietly, "but I felt the change in his scent earlier."

Sahir’s expression tightened, like that sentence had to be swallowed twice to go down.

"That’s why," Sahir whispered, voice rough, "he asked me to take from his responsibilities." His gaze flicked toward Killian, then back to Dax. "And here I thought he’d learned restraint."

Dax raised a pale brow in question.

Sahir held it for a beat, then exhaled slowly, as if surrendering to the reality that the mate of the king he raised would never learn restraint.

Sahir’s eyes flicked back to Chris.

His voice softened, unwillingly. "I understand," Sahir murmured.

Rowan didn’t move, but the tension in his shoulders eased by a fraction, like permission had been granted to keep existing.

Killian remained composed, but his gaze narrowed, already turning this into a procedure.

Sahir rubbed two fingers over his brow, offended by his own feelings, then looked at Dax again. "You’re right to keep it small," he said quietly. "This palace doesn’t know how to touch good news without bruising it."

Dax’s hand stilled for a heartbeat in Chris’s hair.

Then resumed.

"And," Sahir added, voice turning practical because if he stayed soft he would actually break, "I’m not going to intrude on your... intimacy."

Killian’s mouth twitched.

Rowan’s gaze slid briefly to the ceiling, like the architecture might save him from hearing this.

Dax, infuriatingly, looked almost amused.

Sahir’s eyes narrowed. "Don’t."

Dax’s brow lifted a fraction, innocent in the way predators pretended to be harmless. "I said nothing."

"You didn’t need to," Sahir muttered.

He took a careful breath and let the weight of responsibility settle back onto his shoulders where it belonged. "But I do have one question," Sahir said softly, still keeping his voice low enough not to wake Chris. "When?"

"When what?"

"When you want it public," Sahir clarified. His tone was gentler than his words. "Because whether you like it or not, once the court knows, the palace needs protocols. The government needs preparation. Security will need to adjust in ways that can’t stay invisible forever. And..." his eyes flicked to Chris again, "the world will become loud."

Dax’s thumb brushed Chris’s temple again, slowly.

He looked down at his mate, asleep in his lap like he’d always belonged there.

Then Dax said, quiet and controlled, "Around month three to six."

Sahir blinked. "That’s a range."

"It depends," Dax replied simply, "on how Chris feels."

Sahir stared at him.

Because it was exactly who Dax had become - still a king, a weapon, made for war and power, and yet choosing, again and again, to let Chris set the pace even when the entire world would demand otherwise.

Sahir’s eyes went wet again. He blinked hard, furious with himself.

Then he nodded once, firmly.

"Good," Sahir whispered. "That’s reasonable."

Killian’s gaze flicked to Sahir, as if to confirm he’d heard correctly.

Rowan’s expression softened by half a degree, relief threading through his posture.

Sahir adjusted his mantle like he could iron his emotions back into place with fabric.

"I’ll prepare quietly," Sahir said. "We can make the transition smooth when you decide."

Dax’s gaze held his. "No leaks."

Sahir’s mouth tightened. "If someone leaks this," he murmured, "I will personally ruin their entire bloodline."

Dax’s eyes warmed faintly. "Good."

Killian chose that moment to speak, voice smooth. "Prime Minister, if you ruin a bloodline, please file the paperwork in triplicate."

Sahir shot him a glare that could’ve ended dynasties. "I will file you into the sea."

Killian inclined his head, serene. "Understood."

Rowan made a soft sound that might have been a laugh and then disguised it as breathing.

Sahir took one step backward toward the door, then paused again, looking at Chris with something painfully gentle.

"Tell him," Sahir whispered, voice rough, "that I’m happy."

Dax’s hand stilled again, then resumed, gentler. "I will."

Sahir nodded once, satisfied, then turned his head toward Rowan and Killian. "Out," he mouthed.

Rowan moved first, because Rowan understood survival.

Killian followed with the maddening calm of a man who enjoyed knowing he was right.

Sahir lingered for one last heartbeat, then slipped out after them, closing the door with exaggerated care like the room contained something holy.

The lock clicked softly.

The silence held for three seconds.

Then Chris exhaled dramatically and clearly awake.

"Took them long enough to leave," he muttered, voice thick with sleep and irritation.

Dax froze. Then he laughed.

"You were awake," Dax murmured, accusation softened by fondness.

Chris opened one eye, unimpressed. "I woke up when Killian started being smug."

Dax’s fingers threaded through his hair again. "That could have been any day."

Chris’s mouth twitched. "Exactly."

Dax leaned down and kissed his forehead, slower this time, like the gesture was permission and gratitude all at once.

"Come," Dax murmured, voice low. "Bed."

Chris made a faint sound of agreement that was more like surrender than consent. He shifted, arms moving lazily as if gravity had doubled.

Dax didn’t ask again.

He slid an arm under Chris’s shoulders and another under his knees like he’d carried him a thousand times and would carry him a thousand more. Chris didn’t protest - only blinked once, then let his head rest against Dax’s chest with that trust he never showed anyone else.

Tania rose immediately.

She padded after them with solemn purpose, tail up, as if escorting the royal vessel to its designated sleeping chamber.

Dax walked through the corridor without hurry, but the palace itself seemed to hold its breath as he passed.

He kicked the bedroom door shut with his heel without jostling Chris even a fraction.

Then he lowered Chris onto the bed like he was setting down something sacred.

Chris’s eyes fluttered, half-open now, mouth soft.

Dax’s hand brushed his cheek.

"You’re safe," Dax murmured, as much a promise as it was a fact.

Chris blinked slowly, then, because he was still Chris, muttered, "I’m also annoyed."

Dax’s mouth curved. "Good. That means you’ll be awake enough to eat later."

Chris gave him a look that was mostly sleep. "Tyrant."

Dax leaned down, kissed his brow again, and let his forehead rest there for a heartbeat.

"Yes," he whispered, smiling. "Your tyrant."

And at the foot of the bed, Tania curled up again like a living decree, guarding the baby with the devotion of a creature who had decided the future belonged to her too.