Chapter 333: Chapter 333: Timing

Chris ended the call with a soft exhale, staring at the dark screen for a moment longer than necessary, still processing the information with a little lag.

A birthday that was absolutely going to be a political ambush disguised as cake.

Rowan watched him from the far end of the couch. “You have that look.”

“What look?” Chris asked faintly.

“The one you get when you’ve just accepted a social obligation that will involve at least three power struggles, two wardrobe crises, and one potential international incident.”

Chris sank back into the cushions. “Lucas wants us there. Not wants. Has decided we will be there.”

Rowan nodded. “That tracks.”

“And I promised,” Chris added, rubbing his face. “Which means now I have to go find my husband and inform him that our honeymoon is being temporarily re-routed to a battlefield hosted by Serathine and Cressida.”

Rowan’s lips twitched. “You’re going to tell the King of Saha what to do?”

Chris pushed himself upright, the blankets sliding to his waist. His eyes sharpened, all lazy boredom gone, replaced by that particular calm confidence that only appeared when he’d already made up his mind.

“I am not telling him,” he corrected. “I am informing him.”

Rowan stood. “Shall I send a locator ping?”

“No,” Chris said. “That would be polite. I’m done being polite.”

He swung his legs off the couch and stood, ignoring the mild protest from muscles that were still very much aware of Dax’s recent enthusiasm. He grabbed his robe, tied it with a decisive tug, and headed for the door.

Rowan fell into step beside him. “He’s in the southern operations wing. Final briefing with the port authority and the financial crimes unit.”

“Perfect,” Chris muttered. “Nothing says romance like interrupting a takedown with birthday logistics.”

The corridors of the secured residence were quiet, lined with guards who straightened the moment they saw the consort approach. Chris nodded absently, already rehearsing the conversation in his head.

You are coming.

We are going.

No, this is not negotiable.

Yes, I know Belvare is on fire.

No, you cannot delegate Lucas’s birthday.

They reached the heavy doors of the briefing room. Voices filtered through – low, controlled, strategic. The sound of men discussing the dismantling of criminal empires.

Chris didn’t hesitate.

He pushed the door open.

The room stilled almost instantly.

Dax stood at the head of the table, one hand braced on the surface, dark shirt rolled at the sleeves, and expression focused and lethal. Several commanders turned in surprise. One of them started to speak… And then thought better of it.

Dax’s eyes lifted.

The moment he saw Chris, something in his posture shifted as if the axis of the room had quietly moved.

“Everything all right?” he asked calmly.

Chris walked straight up to him, stopped at arm’s length, and tilted his head.

“No,” he said. “Everything is about to be rescheduled.”

A murmur rippled through the officers.

Dax arched a brow. “Is that so?”

“Yes.” Chris folded his arms. “Lucas called. His birthday is in three days. Serathine and Cressida are organizing it. Sebastian will be there. Lucas wants support.”

Dax’s expression didn’t change, but his attention sharpened, total and immediate. “And?”

“And we are going,” Chris said. Simply stating a fact. “If not that day, then the next. But we will be there.”

The room held its breath.

Dax studied him for a long second, then glanced at his commanders. “We will resume in ten minutes.”

No one argued.

The doors closed behind them, leaving the two of them in the suddenly quiet corridor.

Dax looked down at his consort, a slow, dangerous smile beginning to form. “You’ve made a decision.”

“Yes,” Chris replied evenly. “I have.”

“And you expect me to follow it.”

“You can follow me. I’m going anyways.”

Dax’s brow lifted a fraction. “You intend to travel without me.”

“I intend to attend,” Chris corrected. “With or without royal accompaniment.”

That quiet, unmovable line meant he had already decided and would not be gently redirected. The same tone he used when he told ministers no, when he told doctors yes, and when he told destiny to take a number and wait its turn.

Dax studied him for a moment, then let out a slow breath through his nose.

“You are impossible,” he said, not unkindly.

“And you married me anyway,” Chris replied. “Poor strategic planning on your part.”

A corner of Dax’s mouth twitched despite himself. He reached out, fingers brushing the tie of Chris’s robe. “We are not leaving today.”

“I didn’t say today.”

“Nor tomorrow.”

Chris frowned. “Lucas’s birthday is in three days.”

“Yes. And tomorrow Belvare hosts a regional security summit. Every remaining syndicate proxy, every ’legitimate’ port authority, and every financial watchdog who has ever pretended not to see anything will be in one building. I will be there.” His eyes hardened slightly. “So will half the people who now know I am dismantling their world.”

Chris processed that, then sighed. “Of course there’s a summit. There’s always a summit.”

“We leave the day after tomorrow,” Dax said. “You will arrive in Palatine the morning after the celebration. With me. They could have informed us earlier.”

“Serathine and Cressida forced it.”

“Of course they did,” Chris muttered. “They never inform. They announce. Preferably with trumpets and moral pressure.”

Dax’s mouth curved faintly. “And strategic timing.”

“So we miss the actual day,” Chris said, thinking it through. “But we show up immediately after. No delays. No ’Belvare needs one more night of royal attention.’”

“No,” Dax agreed. “Belvare will still be here. Lucas will not always be twenty-one. And Sebastian will not always be this small.”

That softened something in Chris’s expression. “You’re not even pretending to argue.”

“I am choosing my battles,” Dax replied calmly. “This one is not against you.”

Chris huffed a quiet, satisfied sound. “Good. Because I would have won.”

Dax’s hand slid to the small of his back, possessive and steady. “You already did. The moment you said his name and showed me his child.”

They stood there for a heartbeat, the distant murmur of the briefing room leaking through the closed doors, the weight of empires and obligations hovering just beyond the corridor.

Then Chris tilted his head. “So. Day after tomorrow. We leave.”

“Yes.”

“Full security, no excuses, no last-minute detours.”

“Yes.”

“And if Belvare tries to explode again…”

“It will do so without my personal supervision for a few hours,” Dax finished dryly.

Chris smiled, slow and satisfied. “Good. Because I am not facing Serathine and Cressida without you. That is a suicide mission.”

Dax chuckled under his breath. “Wise assessment.”

He leaned down, brushing a brief kiss to Chris’s temple, grounding and warm. “Now go back to your blankets and your crime series. I will finish breaking the city. Then we will go meet a baby and survive a birthday.”

Chris closed his eyes for a second at the contact, then opened them, all determination again. “And you will wear something appropriate.”

Dax arched a brow. “Define appropriate.”

“Something that says ’supportive ally’ and not ’apex predator who might annex the dining room.’”

“No promises,” Dax said, but there was clear amusement in his eyes.

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