CHAPTER 259: CHAPTER 259: NEW MISSION (2)

"In the way that matters," Lucas said, leaning back in the armchair. "I’m where I want to be. The rest is just waiting for the clock to catch up."

He paused, idly tapping a fry against the edge of the box before adding, "But that can’t be said about your older brother. Dax isn’t the type to give up on something he’s decided is his. And a mate who can give him heirs... that’s the last piece he’s been missing."

Mia tilted her head, a small, knowing smile creeping in. "You know... the rumors make it sound even more dramatic. The whole ’Grand Duchess has both Duke Trevor and King Dax at his fingers’ thing? Half the court seems convinced you’re secretly running two kingdoms from your sofa."

Lucas groaned, tipping his head back against the chair. "I’ve heard them. Repeatedly. Usually from people who think they’re being subtle."

She grinned. "Honestly, I hoped they were true. At least then Chris would’ve had a reason to come back home." Her voice softened, a flicker of something heavier passing over her expression. "But then... he sent me a message and told me he’s a dominant omega. Hid it from me and Andrew all this time."

Lucas straightened slightly, his amusement ebbing. "I can understand that," he said after a beat. "Being a dominant omega isn’t just rare... it’s dangerous. For someone like Chris, it’s the kind of secret people would sell you over. Or keep you until your body breaks. Maybe it wasn’t like that with you and Andrew... but if anyone else found out?" He gave a short, humorless huff. "There’s always someone who thinks they’re entitled to own what they can’t have."

Mia gave a small, reluctant nod. "I... understand."

"Dax would keep him safe from anyone," Lucas added, tone matter-of-fact. "He’s annoying, entitled, and the sort of man who thinks the world should rearrange itself around his schedule... but he also doesn’t let go. Chris wouldn’t have to look over his shoulder every five minutes."

Her mouth twitched, torn between agreement and irritation. "He still needs humbling."

"True," Lucas said, smirking faintly. "But that’s the problem with people like Dax, if the world won’t humble them, someone has to. And I’m too busy defending my fries to volunteer."

That earned him a quiet laugh, but it faded quickly. "Andrew understood why Chris hid it, but... he was furious he didn’t trust us enough to tell us. I’ve never seen him that angry, not at Chris, anyway."

Lucas was silent for a moment, turning that over while idly twisting the paper fry bag between his fingers. "Anger’s easy," he said finally. "It’s the hurt underneath it that’s harder to admit."

"This had gone dark fast." Mia said, while carefully prying the brown bag from earlier.

Lucas’s mouth curved slightly. "Dark conversations pair well with fried food. It’s practically a rule."

"This," Mia said, carefully prying the brown bag from his fingers, "is why you can’t be left unsupervised." She peeked inside, snagging another fry before he could stop her.

"That’s theft again," Lucas warned. "Third offense. I should start keeping a tally."

"Fine. I’ll pay in gossip," she offered, leaning back against the couch. "Did you know the palace florist is convinced one of the security guards is stealing roses for his wife? She’s been counting them."

Lucas’s eyes lit with mock intrigue. "Romantic espionage. I approve."

"And," Mia continued, lowering her voice like she was sharing state secrets, "apparently Windstone was seen inspecting the vending machine in the staff lounge. Twice. In one day."

Lucas froze mid-bite, eyes narrowing. "Which means he’s plotting. Nothing good ever comes from him lingering near snacks."

"Or," Mia said, grinning, "he was just having sweet tea."

"No," Lucas said gravely. "That’s what he wants you to think."

They were still trading theories when the theater door clicked open. Trevor stepped inside, the soft spill of hall light outlining his sharp suit and the familiar weight in his gaze that always made the room feel smaller.

Lucas straightened instinctively, setting the fry box aside.

Trevor’s mouth tugged at one corner, not quite a smile, more like the acknowledgment of a private joke at Lucas’s expense. His gaze flicked briefly to Mia, then back to Lucas, and something in the weight of it made the air feel a little warmer.

"Well," he drawled, stepping fully into the room, "looks like I missed quite the operation."

Lucas leaned back in his seat, aiming for innocence. "Just a quiet afternoon with my chief of gossip."

Mia coughed to hide her laugh, but Trevor’s eyes stayed fixed on Lucas. "Charming the staff into smuggling contraband now?" His tone was light, but there was a thread beneath it, something sharp-edged, territorial.

"It’s not contraband," Lucas said, gesturing to the fry box. "It’s vetted and security-approved."

Trevor’s gaze lingered on the food for exactly two seconds before returning to Lucas, a flicker of something petty in his expression, less about the fries and more about the fact that Lucas had been smiling at someone else while Trevor was stuck in a room with raging idiots who thought military power made them clever.

"You look like you’ve had a wonderful day," he said, finally crossing the space between them. "I should leave you to it, since you’re clearly very well entertained without me."

Lucas caught the faint bite under the words and bit back a smirk. "You could join us. We’re halfway through the movie."

"Tempting," Trevor murmured, his eyes glinting with something that suggested he had other ideas entirely.

Trevor’s eyes slid to the couch where Mia sat, comfortably curled with her plate balanced on her knees. His smile was polite. Court-level polite, which, in Trevor’s case, was just shy of lethal.

"Mia," he said smoothly, "thank you for... keeping my spouse entertained."

The my spouse landed with the precision of a sniper shot.

Mia, to her credit, managed a bright, "Of course, Your Grace," but her fingers were already closing around the fry box like it was a life raft. "Actually, I was just about to..."

"Leave?" Trevor supplied helpfully, his brows lifting in mock innocence. "Don’t let me stop you."

Lucas made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sigh but didn’t intervene, probably because he was enjoying this far too much.

Mia stood, her hoodie sleeves pushed up as if preparing for escape velocity. "I’ll, uh... see you tomorrow, Your Grace." She tossed him a quick grin before adding, "And I’ll text you about that... thing."

Trevor’s gaze narrowed infinitesimally at the thing, but he stepped aside to let her pass, holding the door open with exaggerated courtesy.

The second she was gone, he shut it, turned back, and dropped onto the armchair beside Lucas with a dramatic exhale. "Finally. I was starting to wonder if I needed to bribe my way onto your schedule now."

Lucas arched a brow. "You sound jealous."

Trevor didn’t deny it. He just reached over, plucked a fry from Lucas’s box, and said, "I’m not jealous. I’m possessive. There’s a difference."