CHAPTER 105: CHAPTER 105: A STRANGER’S HELP

The steam had barely cleared from the mirror when Chris decided that the next person who tried to tell him what to do was going to regret it.

He stood there for a long moment, towel around his waist, hair dripping onto the marble, watching the condensation fade from the glass. His reflection looked calm. That was the lie.

Inside, he was done.

He’d given up enough. His job. His home. His autonomy. His jeans, apparently.

And now, after all that, after swallowing every ounce of pride he had left, Dax had the nerve to vanish and send a wardrobe edict through Hanna?

’Unbelievable.’

He turned on the shower again, hotter this time, and stood under it until the skin at the back of his neck burned. It wasn’t a bath so much as an attempt to rinse off the day, Dax’s scent, Hanna’s voice, and his own stupidity for believing that he might like being with Dax.

By the time he dried off and tugged on one of Dax’s black shirts, the one that smelled faintly like spice and arrogance, his decision was set. He wasn’t going to be compliant anymore. He wasn’t going to nod and adapt and play the quiet, civilized omega who didn’t cause trouble.

If Dax wanted cooperation, he could earn it the hard way.

He found his phone on the console beside the bed. A new message blinked across the screen, one from Mia. The timing couldn’t have been worse. He was still damp, half-dressed, and furious, and the last thing he wanted was a conversation with his younger sister.

Still, he answered. Stubborn habit. Guilt, maybe.

Her face filled the screen, bright background, messy ponytail, and the same nervous smile she used when she was about to say something he wouldn’t like.

"Mia." His voice carried the kind of weight that made her spine snap straight. "Why are you calling me on video?"

"Uh... because..."

Chris’s gaze narrowed instantly, cutting through the excuse before it formed. "Who’s there with you?"

Mia froze. Her eyes darted sideways, just once, before she pasted on a smile that was about as convincing as a paper shield in a gunfight.

"No one!" she said, far too brightly.

Chris exhaled through his nose, slow and unimpressed. "Try again."

Before she could fumble out another lie, another face slid into frame, a stranger, calm where Mia was nervous, sharp where she was soft. An omega, if the undertone of his scent across the line was anything to go by, though it wasn’t submissive in the slightest.

He had blonde hair, green eyes, and that self-assured posture that came with wealth and being entirely too used to winning arguments.

"Hello, Christopher," the man said smoothly, propping his chin in his hand as though he were meeting an old friend instead of gatecrashing a private call. "Lovely to finally see you in person. I’ve heard so much."

Chris blinked once. His tone dropped a degree. "Who the hell are you?"

"Lucas Oz D’Argente Fitzgeralt. Or, if you prefer, Trevor’s very bored spouse."

Mia slapped her forehead, muttering under her breath. "Gods, kill me now."

Chris ignored her. His eyes locked onto Lucas, hard and searching, like he could peel the truth off him by force alone. "Why are you in this call?"

Lucas tilted his head, his smirk curling sharper. "Because I thought it would be more fun than listening to your sister stumble through questions she’s too nervous to ask."

That earned him a flicker, barely there, but Chris’s jaw tightened, the corner of his mouth twitching before he crushed it flat again. "She was going to ask about suppressants."

Mia squeaked. "How..."

Chris’s gaze cut to her for half a second, then locked back on Lucas, eyes sharp with distrust. "And you. What do you want with that answer?"

Chris didn’t move. Didn’t even blink.

The man on the other end of the call, Lucas Oz D’Argente Fitzgeralt, of all people, leaned forward like this was a friendly chat instead of a declaration of treason wrapped in charm. His voice was lazy, but the edge in it was clear as day.

"Not your gratitude. Not your loyalty. Just... a trade. We’ll ask about the suppressants; give me the clinic’s name, that’s enough. In return..." His smile darkened. "I’ll give you leverage. A way to run, or at least make your king bleed frustration for every chain he keeps on you."

The words slid through the speaker like oil over steel.

Chris’s jaw locked. Mia’s breath hitched somewhere off-screen, but she didn’t interrupt. She didn’t dare.

Chris’s voice came out low, controlled, the kind of tone that cut through noise. "You think I believe that? That Trevor’s little spouse is going to swoop in and save me from Saha?"

Lucas only smiled, the same smile that people used before detonating something. "I’m not promising freedom tied up with ribbons. I’m promising annoyance. A crack in his perfect control. A moment where you get to breathe without his shadow choking the air. You want out? I can make noise where he can’t silence it fast enough. You want him to suffer? I’m very good at that."

Chris stared at him, unblinking. The heat of anger gave way to something colder... calculation. He didn’t trust a word of it. But there was an undeniable pull in hearing someone else speak aloud the things he’d only ever thought in the quiet moments Dax wasn’t watching.

The palace was a cage made of gold and order. Lucas was the first one to point out the cracks.

Mia’s fingers crushed the fry box in her lap; she was shaking, probably praying he’d hang up before either of them said something that couldn’t be unsaid.

Chris didn’t. His voice came quieter; if Dax could play with him, he would do it too. "You’d risk Trevor’s wrath," he said, "just to put a thorn in Dax’s side?"

Lucas’s smirk turned sharp enough to draw blood. "Oh, darling. I live with Trevor’s wrath. It’s practically a hobby. Now, do we play cards or keep glaring at each other until Dax comes back?"

Chris’s pulse stuttered, just once. The corner of his mouth twitched, more out of disbelief than humor. He leaned back, letting the silence stretch.

’What the hell are you, Lucas Fitzgeralt,’ he thought, ’and how much of this are you actually willing to burn for fun?’