Caught by the Mad Alpha King Chapter 236: Chris is safe

Andrew Black had spent the majority of his adult life as a prosecutor, terrifying enough to keep entire courtrooms under control with his scowl under his glasses.

He missed that life deeply.

Being the heir of the Black family of Palatine for less than three months was already aging him in dog years.

Courtrooms were easy. Criminals were predictable.

Families, especially the Maleks, were not.

If not for Denise and Milo Black, who were sohow keeping the Maleks from committing treason on foreign soil just by glaring in their direction, Andrew was convinced the last week would have ended with at least one diplomatic incident and probably a news headline containing the words "unhinged relatives."

And that was before factoring in Mia.

Miraculously, even Mia had behaved, sharp around the edges, yes, but moving with the poised elegance that made Denise whisper, ’Lucas Fitzgeralt is a miracle worker.’

Andrew agreed.

Throughout the rut, Andrew had been the one quietly redirecting wandering nobles, intercepting gossip, and making sure no one so much as breathed near the palace. He hadn’t slept much. He hadn’t stopped worrying. And he definitely hadn’t gotten a mont alone with Chris.

He’d hoped for one today. But he understood why it wasn’t happening.

The doors to the opera hall opened, and there they were.

Dax, tall, controlled, and dressed in black and gold like war had beco fashionable, stepped out first. Chris walked beside him, dignified and balanced despite the exhaustion he carried under those pale, bronze-embroidered robes.

The high collar hid all the marks Andrew absolutely did not want to think about.

The robe hid the rest.

But the important thing was this:

Chris looked... at peace.

A little pale, yes. Obviously sore. Almost definitely dehydrated.

But peaceful.

More than that... happy.

A real, soft, quiet happiness Andrew hadn’t seen in years. Maybe ever.

Chris caught his eye and gave him a small, tired smile, one that said, ’I’m alive, don’t worry,’ and ’we’ll talk later,’ and ’don’t ruin this for ,’ all at once.

Andrew smiled back, sothing warm tightening in his chest.

He wanted a private conversation. Wanted to drag Chris aside, shake him gently, hug him harder, and make sure he wasn’t just acting strong.

But seeing him now, standing next to soone who guarded him like a kingdom, Andrew could wait.

Andrew was just starting to relax, or at least stop vibrating with protective tension, when he heard the unmistakable voice of a Malek.

High-pitched. Self-important. Nasally offended.

’Perfect.’

He turned slowly, already bracing himself.

A second cousin, one of the peripheral Maleks who hovered around the family tree like mold, was striding toward him, face pinched, expression outraged, and dressed in clothes that tried too hard to look expensive.

"Andrew," she snapped, not even bothering with a greeting, "I demand to know why Christopher is ignoring us."

Andrew blinked once. Twice.

Then he sighed like he was ntally drafting the arrest warrant.

She continued, oblivious to the warning signs. "We’ve been trying to speak with him all week. He’s family. It’s unacceptable for him to be giving us the cold shoulder."

"Adelaide Malek, I’m sorry, but could you remind when you rose to a higher rank than ?" Andrew asked calmly.

"What are you talking about?" She asked, her voice pitched higher, but fortunately the opera was louder.

"I am the heir of a Count, and according to Palatine and Sahan etiquette, no lower rank can initiate a discussion with a higher one. Am I wrong?"

Adelaide froze mid-breath, her outrage collapsing into sothing tight and confused. The Maleks were many things: dramatic, entitled, and allergic to sha, but they all understood rank.

"W-well..." she sputtered, blinking rapidly, "that only applies to formal settings..."

"This is a formal setting," Andrew replied, adjusting his glasses with the cold elegance of a man who once dismantled organized cri rings for sport. "You are in the Royal Opera Hall. During a state event. Surrounded by nobles who absolutely know better."

Her mouth opened, closed, and opened again like a dying fish.

"And," Andrew continued pleasantly, "you addressed by na without title, raised your voice in a public venue, and attempted to demand the attention of soone who currently stands beside a reigning monarch."

Adelaide paled.

Several nearby nobles were definitely listening now.

’Good.’

"So tell ," Andrew said softly, stepping closer with the calm, lethal poise of a prosecutor delivering a final blow, "in what universe does your rank allow you to summon the Consort of Saha like a house servant?"

Adelaide’s lips trembled. "I... I didn’t... he’s my cousin..."

"He was," Andrew corrected smoothly. "Now he is the Crown Consort of a sovereign nation. Under the Sahan protocol, only royalty, foreign heads, or designated nobility may seek his attention."

He offered her a polite, utterly rciless smile.

"You, Adelaide, are none of those things."

She turned an alarming shade of pink.

Andrew leaned in just a fraction, voice dropping to a whisper sharp enough to cut.

"And if you ever attempt to corner him again, the King of Saha will not be the one you need to fear."

Adelaide swallowed audibly.

Andrew straightened, smoothing the front of his coat.

"For now," he said pleasantly, "I recomnd returning to your seat before soone notices you violated decorum. Again."

She nodded frantically and practically tripped over her own feet retreating into the crowd.

Andrew exhaled slowly, letting the tension bleed out of his shoulders.

When he glanced back toward the royal box, he caught Chris peeking over Dax’s shoulder, wide-eyed, exhausted, and trying not to openly laugh.

Andrew lifted one brow.

Chris mouthed, Thank you.

Andrew mouthed back, "Later," and pointed two fingers at his own eyes, then at Chris in a "we’re talking privately whether you like it or not" gesture.

Chris gave him an apologetic little shrug, then let Dax guide him back into the opera hall, the king’s hand low on his back, a quiet claim that made every protective instinct in Andrew relax for the first ti in days.

’Yes. Chris was safe.’

And apparently, Andrew still had it in him to frighten a Malek into respectful silence without raising his voice.

He just pushed up his glasses and let himself feel, for the briefest mont, relieved.