The secure line went dead with a sharp click, silence swallowing the room in its wake. Trevor stayed seated, one hand still clutching the phone while the other dragged down his face, palm pressing against the sharp line of his jaw. His violet eyes burned in the dim light of his study, the last edges of sunset painting long shadows across the polished floor.
Dax was a fucking problem.
A beautiful disaster wrapped in authority and rage, but a problem nonetheless.
Trevor had made fun of him often enough, too easy with the king's oversized ego and his equally oversized obsession with that stubborn little omega. But tonight, humor was a luxury he couldn't afford. He'd heard the strain in Dax's laugh, the razor's edge under his words, and he knew what came next if Christopher didn't pull him back. Saha would choke on its own king.
The door opened without warning.
