[BL]Reborn as the Empire's Most Desired Omega
Chapter 105: The Snake Inside the Palace

Chapter 105: Chapter 105: The Snake Inside the Palace

Lucas didn’t answer right away. His hand still trembled in Trevor’s, but his eyes were steady now. Not because the pain had passed, but because it had a name.

"He didn’t do anything yet." He said quietly he wanted revenge, but as far as this life was going, that man never met him until now.

Dax hummed, swirling the water in his glass like it might turn into something stronger if he stared long enough. "A beta now," he repeated, almost to himself. "So either suppressed or altered. Could be a fluke. Could be engineered. Either way, he shouldn’t have triggered you like that unless there’s more underneath."

Lucas exhaled slowly. "There’s always more underneath."

Trevor’s hand was still wrapped around his, grounding him with quiet force. "You’re right," he said. "He hasn’t done anything yet. So we don’t act yet."

Dax looked vaguely disappointed.

Trevor ignored him and leaned forward slightly. "But we watch. Everything. His steps, his contacts, his assignments. If he so much as breathes wrong, I’ll take his lungs."

Lucas’s mouth twitched, a flicker of the sharp humor buried beneath the hurt. "You’re getting sentimental."

"No," Trevor said, brushing his thumb over the back of Lucas’s hand. "I’m being strategic. If he’s connected to Agatha, he’s our best lead. You’re the reason they’ll fall. But only if we’re smart about it."

Dax, lounging again with the air of someone planning a massacre during tea, added mildly, "And if we find proof of alteration or awakening ties, I get to stage the execution. For morale purposes."

Lucas didn’t smile. But he didn’t shake either. His voice, when it came, was low and clear.

"Fine. We watch him. We use him. And if he dares—if he dares—to repeat even a fraction of what he did before...

Trevor met his eyes. "Then he dies knowing exactly who you are now."

Lucas nodded once. "Then let’s begin." f.(r)eew ebnov\ll.com

—

The rest of the lunch was a strange balance between tense silence and forced normalcy. Dax, surprisingly, didn’t push for amusement after that—his appetite dulled, his sharp tongue quieter. Lucas stayed beside Trevor, fingers occasionally tightening around his sleeve. Windstone took over managing the room, subtly shifting the staff to keep things from feeling stifling.

It was only after dessert that Trevor finally stood. "We’ll take care of it."

Lucas didn’t ask what it entailed. He simply watched as both Trevor and Dax disappeared into the adjacent wing, the door closing behind them with a soft click. Windstone moved closer, a silent promise of protection in every measured step. The staff resumed movement in quiet efficiency—serving tea, clearing the table, and watching Lucas without ever truly watching. NovelFire

The meetings, as expected, were a different kind of battle.

Two hours in, Trevor looked like he wanted to throw a glass of water into someone’s face. Dax, by contrast, looked like he wanted to throw the person.

"Remind me," Dax muttered under his breath while an aging minister rambled about traditional troop formations last used during a rebellion a century ago, "why do I get civilized in politics?"

"For the people," Trevor deadpanned, eyes fixed on his tablet.

"Right." Dax’s tone suggested he’d rather set the palace on fire for the people.

The ministers droned on, clinging to outdated maps and irrelevant metrics. The younger generation present—barely tolerated by their elders—tried to speak, only to be ignored or condescended to. It was painful, it was slow, and it made both men crave the violence of strategy over the impotence of bureaucracy.

By the end of it, Dax stood up so sharply his chair groaned. "One more meeting like this and I’m turning the Council Chamber into a battlefield simulation."

"Make it interactive," Trevor said dryly. "The survivors can vote."

—

They returned just as the sun began to dip low in the sky, casting gold along the marble corridors.

Windstone greeted them in the antechamber with his usual calm, but even he looked vaguely impatient. Beside him stood a man in his early forties, neatly dressed in deep indigo—Tyler Bell, Dax’s chief secretary and the one man in the palace more feared than Dax’s temper.

He gave a short bow. "As requested," he said, handing Trevor a sealed folder. "Jason Luna. Every assignment, every report, and every clearance document for the past nine years."

Trevor opened it without hesitation. Dax peered over his shoulder, one hand already going to his jaw as his expression darkened.

"Transferred five times in six years," Tyler summarized. "Slipped into Sahan guard rotation during a regional shift under Acting Commander Reev. That shift was never approved by the standing board."

"That’s a planted name," Dax said immediately. "Reev retired four years ago and was in treatment for two of them. He didn’t sign anything."

Trevor’s jaw tightened. "Which means someone forged it."

Tyler gave a subtle nod. "More than that—he was embedded in at least two assignments that had nothing to do with Saha but were coordinated through secondary channels. Including escort duty in Palatine during last winter’s summit."

Trevor’s fingers stilled on the page. "Which would have placed him near Serathine."

"Too close," Dax said, eyes narrowing.

The weight of it pressed against them.

Not a coincidence.

Not a fluke.

Not anymore.

Trevor closed the folder with a quiet finality. "Keep eyes on him. No direct contact yet."

Dax nodded once to Tyler. "Quiet, clean, and off the books. I want to know who put him in my palace and who he’s reporting to."

"Also, put his family or any known people under surveillance; if he has contacted Agatha already, we might have a lead; if he didn’t, they might contact him first. The folder reeks of forgery."

Tyler’s eyes sharpened at once. "Understood. I’ll assign a black channel unit to monitor all known connections—family, former roommates, even childhood friends. We’ll use standard shadowing—nothing visible, nothing traceable. If Agatha so much as blinks in his direction, we’ll know."

He took the folder back with smooth precision, already tapping commands into his tablet. "And I’ll run a forgery trace on the clearance stamps. If someone inside gave him a backdoor into your palace, we’ll flush them out."

Dax gave a grim nod. "I want it done quietly. No purges. Not yet. If we gut the snake too soon, the rest will scatter."

Trevor’s gaze lingered on the now-closed folder. "We let him think he’s unseen. But the moment he makes a move—"

"I’ll have the rope ready," Tyler said simply, before vanishing into the shadows of the corridor like smoke.

Trevor turned toward Windstone. "Where’s Lucas?"

"In the terrace garden," Windstone said. "He wanted fresh air. He hasn’t said much."

Trevor glanced between them, his voice lower now. "We’re not letting that man get close again. Not even for a trap. Not unless Lucas says he wants it."

Dax nodded. "Agreed."