Chapter 36: Chapter 36: Impromptu visit (1)

The car slid out of the manor gates and onto the long coastal road, tires whispering over damp stone. Even in summer this part of the country never quite lost its chill; the sea on their right was a steel-grey sheet flecked with white, and the air that crept in through the window seams smelled of salt, iron, and cold weed. Dax watched it without blinking, one hand pressed to his mouth, the other curled loosely against his knee.

He could still see Chris as he had left him: curled into the bed, lashes down, breath steady. The scent had been clean under the cotton of his borrowed clothes, faint wine and rain and something that was simply him. It clung to Dax’s palms even now, sharper than the brine outside, and every mile away from it set a quiet tension crawling under his skin.

“Did you find anything new about my mate?” he asked at last, not looking at Tyler.

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Tyler’s tone was quiet, the way it always went when he had more than a few lines of data to hand over. He adjusted the tablet on his knees and began reading without being prompted.

“Christopher Milo Malek. Engineer in structural construction. Works freelance, taking only fixed-term contracts. Three of them with the Sahan government in the last five years: port warehouses, a sea-wall reinforcement, and the new municipal footbridge. All signed off clean. Excellent recommendations from every client.”

Dax’s violet eyes stayed on the slate-grey line of the horizon, the sea’s whitecaps breaking like glass far below. “Does he know Sahan?” he asked after a beat.

“It’s unclear,” Tyler replied. “All correspondence from our side was in Sahan, but he answered in Imperial. The drawings he delivered were bilingual. Either he reads it well enough to work, or he used translators and kept it quiet.”

Dax’s fingers flexed against his knee. He either learned my language on his own, or he’s clever enough to build a wall between himself and anyone who might test him. Both possibilities pleased him more than he’d expected. He turned his head a fraction, watching the cold spray roll across the breakwater as the car followed the curve of the coast.

“Interesting,” he murmured. “That will be fun to find out.” He stretched slightly, a rare, quiet smile curving his mouth. “Continue.”

Tyler glanced at his tablet, scrolling with one thumb. “He has kept his footprint small. No permanent employer, no health screenings. Contracts were staggered so there’s no overlap. Two-bedroom apartment on the top floor, fully paid off. No debts. No criminal record. Neighbors say he’s polite but private. His only family are his siblings: Andrew Milo Malek, prosecutor in Palatine, and Mia Malek, currently with the Fitzgeralt communications team. She was the one who took an extra shift at the wedding to make extra money; she went into heat and suggested her brother cover Section One.”

“I should thank her for sending him my way,” Dax said softly.

Even after more than a decade in his service, Tyler felt a ripple of unease at the tone before he caught himself. Dax noticed and let the corner of his mouth lift, a flicker of amusement that never reached his eyes.

“Relax,” he said. “I’m not planning to harm her. I want her at dinner with us tonight, me, Christopher, and his sister. I want to hear how she sees him and what she knows, and I’d rather make an ally out of her than a problem.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Tyler said quickly, already making the note.

Dax turned his gaze back to the grey strip of sea, fingers flexing once against his knee. ’Better to bring her into the circle early,’ he thought. ’Let her see him safe and see who has him. Let her help me understand what he won’t tell me yet.’ The idea pleased him.

“What about the Maleks?” he asked after a beat, eyes still on the churning water. “From what I remember, they’re one of the oldest noble families.”

Tyler gave a small nod, scrolling. “Old, yes. And wealthy. But not particularly noble in their conduct.” He glanced up briefly. “When the parents died, the wider family did nothing. No funds, no intervention. No acknowledgment beyond a formal condolence letter. Andrew took guardianship of the younger two on his own. The rest of the Maleks have treated them like distant cousins at best. They only surface when there’s a title or a contract to be won.”

Dax’s jaw flexed once, the only outward sign of the quiet contempt that rolled through him. He could picture Chris at nineteen, still trying to finish school, still believing someone from that ancient house might reach down a hand. And no one had.

“Run-of-the-mill scavengers,” Dax murmured, violet eyes narrowing on the horizon. “Old name and blood but only care when it benefits them.”

Tyler didn’t comment. The car ate another stretch of road along the cold coast, wind rattling faintly against the window. Dax let his fingers relax, the thought forming clean and cold in his head: ’They ignored him when he needed them. They’ll pay attention now, but I will make sure they don’t get anything.’

The driver slowed, turning off the main road onto a narrower lane lined with salt-streaked balconies. The apartment block came into view: pale stone dulled by sea air, balconies boxed in glass, and potted evergreens at the entrance. Safe. Anonymous. The sort of place someone could disappear without a ripple.

The car rolled to a stop at the curb. Tyler was already reaching into his coat pocket. “Keys,” he said quietly, handing over a small ring. “Main door and the apartment itself. Security swept the stairwell; there’s nothing obvious.”

Dax took them without a word, stepping out into the cold air. Salt hit his face, sharper than he expected. Behind him, two plain-clothed guards slipped out of a second vehicle and moved toward the building in a loose pattern, their presence more shadow than detail. Tyler fell in just behind Dax, tablet tucked under his arm.

Inside, the stairwell smelled faintly of damp stone and cheap disinfectant. Dax’s boots were silent on the steps, but he felt the familiar edge creeping back into his muscles, the sense he got just before a fight. His fingers tightened once around the keys, violet eyes narrowing as he approached the door at the end of the hall.

The lock turned easily. He pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The scent hit him first: perfume, dust, and a sour edge of adrenaline. Then the noise: drawers half-open, a curtain torn loose from its hooks, and shards of a picture frame glittering on the floor. Someone had been rifling through Chris’s life, clawing at it like an animal.

And in the middle of the wreckage, a blonde woman in a champagne-colored dress turned on him. Her eyes were bright with fury, her hair was coming loose around her shoulders, and her hands were still gripping the edge of an overturned drawer.

For a heartbeat she froze, like a thief caught in a sudden spotlight. Then she straightened, her expression sharpening into something that was supposed to be defiance but looked more like panic.

Dax stood just inside the doorway, coat falling open, every inch of him still and dangerous. Behind him, Tyler stopped just short of the threshold, waiting. The guards fanned out silently, closing off the hall. Dax’s violet eyes stayed on the woman, unreadable, as the salt wind from the open window lifted the edge of his coat.

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