Caught by the Mad Alpha King Chapter 35: Call Andrew

The latte was perfect. Too perfect. He sat back in the chair, cup warm between his palms, eyes moving from the balcony to the inner doors as he sipped. Sowhere under the caffeine and bandages, his instincts were starting to wake up again.

Escape.

The word rolled around his head as he stared at the drapes. In so storybook version of his life, he’d slide out the balcony doors, scale a trellis, lt into the gardens and be gone before anyone noticed. He imagined it for a beat: climbing down marble columns with blistered feet, dodging motion sensors he couldn’t see, slipping past gates he didn’t know existed while a hundred caras watched him from angles he hadn’t even found yet.

He snorted softly into his coffee. "Yeah. Sure. Because that’s going to happen."

The bandages cushioned the worst of the pain, but every step he’d taken from the bed to the bathroom had reminded him how raw his heels still were. He didn’t even know where the front gate was. He didn’t know if there were dogs, drones, or pressure sensors under the gravel. For all he knew, the entire estate sat inside a periter of invisible lasers and polite, well-dressed snipers.

He took another slow sip. The latte was sweet and hot and very real. The more he looked, the more obvious it beca: no guards in sight, no uniford staff, no boots or radios. That wasn’t a sign of freedom. That was a sign the system was good enough not to need a visible leash.

Chris sighed and set the cup down, leaning back in the chair. "Face it, Malek," he muttered to himself. "You’re not Houdini. Not on burning feet. Not blindfolded. And if you can’t even see the security, it’s because they don’t want you to."

The phone began to vibrate against the table, a sharp buzz that cut through the quiet like a mosquito. Chris didn’t even have to look at the screen; only one person in his contacts would call this early, this insistently.

Mia.

He stared at the na for a long mont, thumb hovering. The latte had barely cooled and already reality was knocking. Dax knew now there was no way to hide it after the scent, the night, and the bandages. And once Dax knew, it was only a matter of ti before everyone else did. His family. Mia. The whole ss he’d kept under wraps since he left.

He sighed and swiped.

"Morning, troublemaker," he said, pitching his voice into the lazy drawl he used when he was trying to sound unbothered.

"Chris!" Her voice spilled fast, worried. "You’re alive. Thank the gods. I heard... people were saying you worked Section One at the Fitzgeralt wedding and Clara is blowing my phone up. Please tell she didn’t do anything crazy."

"She tried to convince to get her into the main hall... You know her."

"After all she had done?" Mia asked, scandalized. "My god, she is even crazier. How are you?"

Chris hesitated, rolling the latte glass between his palms. "My feet are on fire thanks to Fitzgeralt shoes," he said at last, a wry smile tugging at his mouth, "and a king took in like a stray."

"What?" she squeaked.

"Mia... you know the false positive test of my secondary gender when I was eighteen? Surprise..." He exhaled and let the words fall. "I really am a dominant oga. And Dax took in."

There was a beat of stunned silence, then she practically shouted, "Did he kidnap you?!"

"No," Chris said quickly, trying to sound soothing. "Yes... Maybe? More like... scooped up off the battlefield of a wedding. I’m in a suite, drinking a latte, and my feet are bandaged. It’s... weirdly civilized for an abduction."

"Chris," she hissed, torn between laughter and panic. "Dominant ogas get arranged marriages, they get guarded, and they don’t get scooped up by kings at parties!"

"I know," he said softly. "It’s rare. It’s a big deal. And I should have told you sooner."

"Ya think?" she shot back, but her voice had already started to wobble with disbelief. "You’re drinking coffee with a king right now?"

"Not with," he corrected, a hint of his old charm creeping back. "He left alone with breakfast. See? Not a hostage. Just a very confused dominant oga with blisters."

"I can’t process this. Please tell there’s so hidden cara," Mia pleaded, half-joking but her voice climbing higher.

"Nope," Chris said, glancing at the discreet lenses in the ceiling. "I’m very much in a villa that looks like a castle, with security so advanced they’d probably catch before I even think of escape."

"Gods." She sucked in a breath. "Did you tell Andrew?"

"No." He swirled what was left of his latte, looking at the pale foam. "You’re the only one that knows."

"Fuck," Mia swore, the word sounded strange in her mouth; she almost never cursed. "Call Andrew right now. Don’t you ever ntion you told first, and tell him. NOW!"

Chris gave a crooked smile at the phone. "Good morning to you too, little sister."

"I’m serious, Chris!" she said, still bubbling with panic. "This isn’t just so job gone wrong. Dominant ogas aren’t normal. They’re politics, contracts, and security. And Andrew’s a prosecutor in the capital. If he finds out from soone else..."

"I know." He tipped his head back, staring at the ceiling. "He’s the one who raised us after Mom and Dad died, Mia. I know exactly what it ans."

"Then call him," she ordered. "Use that king’s phone if you have to. Just call him before soone else does."

Chris’s grin widened despite himself. "You realize you’re bossing around a dominant oga who’s sitting in a king’s bed right now, right?"

There was a tiny, nervous laugh at the other end. "I don’t care. You’re still my brother. Call him Chris."

Chris exhaled through his nose, the humor fading a little. "Yeah," he said quietly. "I’ll call him."

Chris ended the call with Mia and set the phone down on the table, staring at it like it might bite. The latte had gone lukewarm, but he kept his hands wrapped around the cup anyway, trying to draw so steadiness from the heat.

He’d hidden his secondary gender for years to make Andrew’s life easier. Andrew, who had stepped into the role of parent when theirs had died, had worked in a small town despite his talent, only making sure his younger siblings stayed fed and housed. Chris had told himself it was a kindness, one less burden for Andrew to carry.

Now, staring at the little screen, it felt less like kindness and more like betrayal.

He picked up the phone, thumb hovering over Andrew’s contact. His stomach twisted. The villa was too quiet; even the security system seed to hold its breath. "Please be in court," he muttered under his breath. "Please be driving. Please... just don’t answer."

He pressed call.