Chapter 436: Chapter 436: In the Field

Dax closed the phone after Chris had told him about Nero weaponizing his voice, and the only word Chris could get out of him before he’d been reprimanded for ever thinking it was a good idea to ’accidentally’ set his mate up with a parliamentary session.

Honestly, it hadn’t been planned.

Dax didn’t have a problem sharing power with his mate. Chris wore it like silk when he wanted to and like a weapon when he had to. The problem was burdens. The problem was that Christopher was already doing more than anyone had asked of him – and, worse, more than anyone could reasonably expect of him – and still looking around for more to carry, like the weight of a kingdom was a personal hobby.

His sweet mate, the one who, only a few years ago, had gone quiet and distant any time heirs were mentioned, had given Dax what he’d always wanted.

And now Chris wanted another one.

Dax let the phone fall onto the small table near his armchair and let his head sink back against the backrest. He was smiling, eyes closed, thinking of dealing with the beasts as soon as possible so he could return to his heaven.

The room Alamina had given him was elegant in the way that foreign palaces were always elegant, but it was also unfamiliar in the important details. The windows were tall, the curtains heavy. Beyond the stone and glass, the city was alive with a low-key tension: troops moving, officials whispering, and citizens pretending not to hear.

Dax listened anyway.

His hearing was good – good enough that he could pick the rhythm of boots in the corridor outside before the guards announced themselves, good enough that he could tell when someone’s breath stuttered because they were afraid, and good enough that he could hear the faint scrape of a chair being moved in the adjacent salon and know exactly how many people were sitting down.

He kept most of it leashed.

Not because he couldn’t handle it.

Because he didn’t like what it did to his patience.

He opened his eyes again, the smile still there, quiet and dangerous around the edges.

He had come to Alamina for the beasts.

The official explanation was clean: a containment failure in the outer districts, a field response requested by the local council, a shared threat that didn’t respect borders. The truth was less polite. The ’beasts’ weren’t random. Something had been nudged. Something had been fed. Someone wanted a spectacle or wanted Dax pulled away long enough for something else to breathe.

And the irony was that Dax would have come anyway because he didn’t tolerate threats growing teeth near his borders.

But he also didn’t tolerate being maneuvered.

The knock was measured – two, pause, then one – as if the person on the other end knew exactly how loud to make it to be heard without being disrespectful.

“Come in,” Dax said.

The handle turned.

Rowan stepped in first, as if by instinct. Not because he thought he could protect Dax from anything in this palace, but because Rowan’s body had been trained to put itself between danger and the people he cared about, even when it was absurd. Behind him came an Alamina officer – older, stiff-backed, with a face shaped by years of responsibility and a mouth that looked like it had forgotten how to relax. Two guards followed, stopping at the threshold.

Rowan’s eyes flicked to the phone on the table, then to Dax’s face.

“You’re smiling,” Rowan said, immediately suspicious.

“I spoke to my mate.”

Rowan’s suspicion did not soften. If anything, it sharpened. “That explains nothing.”

Dax’s gaze slid toward the Alamina officer. “Report.”

The officer stepped forward with the rigid precision of a man who had learned, the hard way, that rank did not protect you from consequences.

“Your Majesty,” he began, accent clipped, “the northern containment line held through the night, but only barely. The beasts probed the wards three separate times. Two were driven back. The third…” He paused, jaw tightening. “The third pushed far enough to injure three of ours before we forced it down.”

Rowan’s posture shifted instantly, subtle and predatory. “Injured how?”

The officer’s eyes flicked to him, then back to Dax, as if acknowledging Rowan was dangerous but Dax was law.

“Pheromone exposure and physical trauma,” he said carefully. “Clawing. Crushing. One bite. No fatalities.”

Dax’s face didn’t change, but the air in the room did. The quiet warmth from the call with Chris sealed itself away behind something colder.

“How close to civilians,” Dax asked.

“Too close,” the officer admitted. “We evacuated the outer blocks again at dawn. People are compliant, but…” His mouth compressed. “They’re frightened.”

“They should be,” Dax said mildly.

Rowan’s gaze cut sideways. “And why did it push?”

The officer’s throat bobbed. “We believe it followed a scent trail.”

Dax’s eyes sharpened. “Explain.”

The officer hesitated the way men did when they were about to say something that would either sound stupid or sound like an accusation.

“There were… changes in the air,” he said. “We detected a spike. Not random. Not the usual residual build-up from the beasts themselves. A concentrated burst… like someone opened a bottle in the middle of the perimeter.”

Rowan went very still.

Dax’s voice remained calm. “Someone released pheromones.”

“Yes,” the officer said. “We’re still confirming, but the pattern suggests it. It drew them toward the line.”

Rowan’s mouth curled, humorless. “So we’re not dealing with animals. We’re dealing with someone stupid enough to bait them.”

The officer’s eyes didn’t contradict him. They didn’t need to.

Dax leaned back slightly in the chair, one arm resting along the armrest, his posture composed as if he weren’t calculating every angle of this in real time.

“Show me your map,” Dax said.

The officer pulled a folded sheet from his file and opened it on the table with careful hands. Marked zones. Ward lines. Evacuation routes. A cluster of red circles along the border like bruises.

Dax studied it without speaking.

Rowan hovered to the side, eyes tracking the markings, already anticipating orders.

“These incidents,” Dax said finally, tapping a point with one finger, “they’re closer together than your report suggests.”

The officer swallowed. “Yes.”

“You’re downplaying proximity,” Dax added.

The officer’s mouth tightened. “We didn’t want to alarm your—”

“Don’t,” Dax cut in, soft as velvet and twice as final. “Don’t manage my emotions for me. Tell me what is true.”

The officer bowed his head a fraction, chastened. “The pocket is spreading east. If it breaches, it will touch two additional districts within hours.”

Rowan cursed under his breath.

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