Caught by the Mad Alpha King-Chapter 429: Loud

The palace had hosted negotiations that decided borders.

It had hosted dinners where men smiled while planning each other’s collapse.

It had hosted press conferences so tense the air felt sharpened.

None of it compared to the sound of children being released into a safe space.

The family had barely been inside ten minutes before the private wing stopped feeling like an extension of the monarchy and started feeling like what Chris had secretly wanted all along: a house that was alive and loud in the way that meant nobody was afraid of the future for five entire minutes.

They’d chosen one of the modern lounges for it - big sectional sofas, a low table pushed against the wall, floor-to-ceiling windows facing the inner garden, and a soft play mat that looked suspiciously like it had been purchased with state funds and then aggressively justified as ’security-approved cushioning.’

There were toys everywhere.

Not the delicate, decorative kind that came with royal branding and warnings.

Real toys. Blocks. Plush animals. Little cars. A set of foam pieces that Sebastian had already decided were weapons.

Zion - five years old and offended by the concept of restraint - was on his knees on the mat, pushing a car with such intensity it looked like he was trying to break the floor on purpose.

Dean - one - was sitting nearby with the solemn concentration of a tiny scholar, stacking blocks like he was building the future and intended it to be structurally sound.

Layle - three - had taken one look at the foam pieces and immediately started organizing them by color, size, and potential tactical advantage. He did not play like other children. He audited.

Cassius - five - was pacing in the way boys did when they were trying to look like they weren’t excited. He had declared himself ’in charge’ within thirty seconds of arrival, and no adult had challenged it because Mia had given them all one look that said, ’Let him have it; he’s harmless until he’s hungry.’

The twins - Margaret and Kate - four, were already a synchronized storm.

They weren’t running; they were coordinating. While one distracted, the other stole. One offered a toy; the other swapped it for something better. They moved through the room like a paired heist.

Sebastian, six, was the ringleader of chaos by birthright.

He had dragged Trevor’s phone charger out of a side pocket, declared it ’the rope,’ and was now attempting to lasso Zion with it.

Trevor noticed immediately, because Trevor noticed everything, and said in a calm voice that promised consequences, "Sebastian."

Sebastian froze, looked up, and smiled in the exact way that said he had already accepted the consequences and planned to enjoy them.

Lucas, seated on the sofa with the faint, tired grace of a man who had survived both nobility and parenting, murmured, "He’s in a phase."

Trevor replied without looking away from his child, "He’s in a phase where he’s going to meet God if he uses that near a lamp."

Chris stood near the window with a drink in hand, watching it all with an expression that was half satisfaction and half awe, like he’d summoned a small natural disaster on purpose and it had actually shown up.

"Look at them," he whispered, almost reverent. "This is what peace looks like."

Sirius, seated nearby with Zion’s tiny jacket draped over his arm, gave him a flat look. "This is what noise looks like."

Ethan, who was crouched next to Dean and quietly stopping him from eating a block like it was a normal parenting moment, said warmly, "Noise is a good sign."

Mia, elegant even while holding Layle’s water bottle like it was a weapon, nodded. "Noise means they’re not scared."

Lucius didn’t comment.

He stood by the far wall, hands behind his back, observing with the stillness of a man who had once survived courts where children were turned into symbols instead of allowed to be children.

His gaze kept catching on the smallest things: Dean’s concentration, Cassius’s pride, Layle’s sharp eyes, and Sebastian’s fearless laughter.

And each time, the tension in his shoulders eased slightly, as if he was convincing himself that this - this ridiculous, messy scene - was real.

Dax was standing.

Because Dax couldn’t relax in a room full of small bodies moving unpredictably. He didn’t even pretend.

But his posture was looser than usual, his expression less severe, and his presence not that of a king guarding a nation.

It was that of a father holding his son.

Nero was six months old now - cheeks, bright eyes, and a level of curiosity that suggested he was going to be a problem as soon as he could crawl. He sat in Dax’s arms like he belonged there, one hand gripping the front of Dax’s shirt, the other reaching outward toward the chaos with greedy fascination.

Dax held him securely, one large hand supporting Nero’s back, the other steady under his thighs.

Every few seconds, Nero would make a small delighted sound, as if he couldn’t believe the world had come with this many moving targets.

Chris drifted closer, drawn in the way he always was when he saw Dax holding their child, like it rewired something in him, softened edges he didn’t know he had.

Dax’s eyes flicked to him immediately.

"Don’t," Chris warned.

Dax’s brow lifted. "Don’t what?"

"Don’t look at me like that," Chris said, mouth already twitching. "Like I’m about to start making irresponsible decisions."

Dax’s expression didn’t change. Which was, unfortunately, confirmation.

"You’re always about to," Dax said.

Chris scoffed. "I’m literally standing here. Peacefully. With a beverage. Observing."

Dax’s gaze dropped to the beverage. "What is that?"

"Juice."

Dax’s eyes narrowed slightly. "That’s vague."

Chris smiled sweetly. "It’s fruit."

Dax stared at him like he was determining whether to call Nadia.

Nero chose that moment to reach out and slap Chris’s sleeve, as if to mediate.

Chris immediately softened and leaned in to kiss Nero’s forehead. Nero squealed.

Dax’s mouth twitched, betraying him.

"You see," Chris murmured to Nero, "your father is clinically incapable of relaxing."

Dax replied, calm and utterly unbothered, "Relaxation is a luxury. I have you."

Chris’s face warmed in a way he hated.

He tried to recover with sarcasm. "Romantic."

"Accurate," Dax said, and then Nero grabbed a fistful of Dax’s hair again like it was a handle.

Dax froze, offended by the betrayal of his own genetics.

Chris laughed, delighted. "He’s on my side."

Dax stared down at his child with quiet disbelief. "He is six months old and already committing treason."

Nero grinned at him.

Dax’s expression softened despite himself, and he adjusted his grip, bouncing Nero slightly. Nero giggled, tiny and bright, the sound so pure it made the room feel like it had been cleaned from the inside out.

Across the mat, Cassius declared, "I’m the leader."

One of the twins immediately said, "No."

The other twin said, "Yes," at the exact same time, purely to destabilize the situation.

Sebastian shouted, "We need a castle!"

Layle, without looking up from his organized foam pieces, said, "We already have one."

Dean knocked his block tower over by accident, stared at the collapse like it was betrayal, then calmly started stacking again.

Zion made a noise that sounded like both a laugh and a growl and drove his toy car directly into Cassius’s foot.

Cassius yelped, offended. Zion looked proud.

Ethan reached out and gently redirected Zion with the patience of a man who had accepted that toddlers were unpredictable weather systems.

Sirius watched, expression caught between fondness and exhaustion. "He takes after you," he muttered to Ethan.

Ethan smiled. "He takes after both of us."

Sirius looked like he wanted to argue, then Zion tried to eat a foam piece, and Sirius immediately stood up to stop him.

Chris leaned toward Mia and murmured, "I love this."

Mia’s smile softened. "I know."