Taming the Wild Beast of Alamina-Chapter 146: Residual Damage

Sylvia once again assisted with something she wasn’t supposed to.

She left Arion and Dean to deal with their rising hormones because she was a beta and therefore immune to the worst of the pheromone warfare but not immune to the visual reality of two dominant disasters trying very hard to pretend they were civilized.

They had been this close to jumping on each other in front of her.

She wasn’t going to unpack that. Not tonight. Not ever.

She saw the dominant omega who had provoked Dean - Andrea, bridal white and wounded pride - leave like the diva he was, heels clicking like a threat and a retreat at the same time. The moment the doors shut behind him, Sylvia decided she’d hit her quota for rich people and dramatic nonsense for the month.

Engagement gala or not, she was a civilian.

She didn’t have the moral fortitude to keep watching royals perform emotional crimes in designer clothing.

So she did what any sane woman would do in a palace full of predators and cameras:

She walked away.

The halls beyond the receiving room were cooler, quieter, and far more heavily monitored. The gallery corridor looked like money had been poured into it and then polished. Security stood at intervals pretending to be decorative. A few aides moved like ghosts with tablets and earpieces, their eyes politely empty.

Sylvia kept her face neutral and her pace steady, because she’d learned very quickly that in palaces, you survived by looking like you belonged where you were going even if you had no idea where you were.

She meant to find a quiet corner. A bathroom. A drink. Possibly an exit.

But first... She needed to locate one more moving target.

Nero.

Because Nero had been in the ballroom earlier, and if anyone would understand that Dean was... technically safe now, it would be Nero. Nero would take the information and file it under ’containment successful,’ then immediately make a joke about it and possibly ruin Dean’s life later for sport.

She didn’t want to tell Sebastian that his little brother was now in bed with Arion. So Nero was the safest target she knew.

But that was later.

Right now, Sylvia just wanted to confirm that the world wasn’t about to collapse while she blinked.

She turned a corner and nearly stopped dead.

Because Nero was in the hallway ahead.

He wasn’t lounging or smiling like two hours ago; he wasn’t doing his usual ’pretty menace’ routine where he looked like a fairy tale and acted like a crime.

Nero was standing very still near a set of tall windows, hands clasped behind his back, head slightly bowed like he was listening to something through an earpiece or through pure rage.

His long white-blonde hair was still immaculate, but his posture had changed. The air around him looked sharper. His shoulders were set like someone had tightened a screw. His violet eyes were focused on nothing in particular with the quiet intensity of a man deciding whether to choose diplomacy or violence.

He looked dangerous as hell.

Not ’playful chaos’ dangerous.

The other kind, the one with murder in a headline.

Sylvia’s first thought was ’Oh.’

Her second thought was, ’Someone has just made a mistake.’

She hesitated, then made herself walk forward anyway, because she had teeth too, even if they weren’t pheromonal.

"Your Highness," Sylvia called softly, aiming for casual.

Nero’s head lifted, and his gaze landed on her like a bucket of iced water.

Sylvia’s spine went very straight.

Then, just for a fraction, recognition flickered in his expression. The knowledge that Sylvia was not a threat and therefore did not need to be eliminated.

His smile did not appear.

That was the alarming part.

"Lady Sylvia," Nero said, his voice smooth and polite in the way men were polite right before they did something unforgivable.

Sylvia slowed a step away from him, suddenly aware that she was a civilian standing within striking distance of a geopolitical problem.

She offered her brightest, most harmless smile. "Hi. I just—"

Nero’s gaze moved past her shoulder, toward the corridor behind her, as if tracking a scent trail Sylvia couldn’t perceive.

Sylvia’s stomach tightened. "Dean’s... fine," she blurted, because she could not help herself. "He’s with Arion. Away from the public. Contained. Mostly."

Nero’s eyes narrowed. "Contained."

Sylvia lifted both hands a little, palms out. "As contained as Dean can be. Which is... relative."

Nero didn’t laugh.

Sylvia’s smile faltered by a millimeter and her survival skills kicked in.

"Okay," Sylvia said carefully, raising her hands in surrender, "I’m sorry if I’m interrupting you... I just wanted to make sure at least someone knows, because I’m going home."

For a beat, Nero just looked at her.

Not assessing her like a threat, he’d already decided she wasn’t one but weighing something else. Pressure. Responsibility. The fact that Sylvia was a civilian in a palace full of people who collected power like jewelry.

Then, finally, his shoulders eased a fraction.

"Good," Nero said quietly.

Sylvia blinked. "Good?"

Nero’s gaze slid past her again, toward the corridor where the gala noise lived like a distant storm. His jaw tightened, then loosened, like he was actively forcing himself not to go hunting.

"Good that you’re leaving," Nero clarified. "This place... makes people stupid."

Sylvia let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. "That’s... accurate."

Nero’s eyes flicked back to her.

The anger remained, but it was muted and hidden behind polite behavior.

He tilted his head slightly. "I’ll take you."

Sylvia stared. "Take me where?"

"Home," Nero said, as if that were obvious. "Or to your suite. Or to the palace exit. Wherever your safe endpoint is."

Sylvia’s brows lifted. "You’re offering to escort me."

Nero’s mouth twitched in a thin smile. "I need to clear my head."

Sylvia hesitated, because accepting favors from men like Nero felt like stepping into a contract you didn’t remember signing.

But he wasn’t looking at her like she owed him.

He was looking past her, like his mind was full of knives and he needed to put distance between himself and whatever had sharpened them.

"And," Nero added, voice flat, "you didn’t do anything wrong."

Sylvia blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity.

That was... rare.

"You’re mad," Sylvia said cautiously.

Nero’s violet eyes held hers. "Yes."

Sylvia tried to keep her tone light. "Should I be worried that you’re offering to drive me while mad?"

Nero’s mouth finally curved. "No. I’m not reckless with civilians."

Sylvia narrowed her eyes. "That’s an interesting sentence for a man radiating rage." She paused, clenched her hand on the clutch, and continued. "You can come with me if you want, but I want to stop for wings and fries. This place had only pretentious food."