[BL]Reborn as the Empire's Most Desired Omega
Chapter 150: Setting the trap

Chapter 150: Chapter 150: Setting the trap

Dax leaned forward slightly, elbows on the edge of the table, his voice dropping just enough to suggest more than it said. "Will you let me bring a plus one?"

Trevor’s eyes narrowed. "You do not have a plus one."

"Not yet," Dax corrected smoothly. "But it would be rather cruel to deny me the chance to acquire one."

Lucas, still watching the exchange like a referee too tired to issue penalties, arched a brow. "Do you mean acquire or abduct?"

"Details," Dax said, waving a hand. "What matters is that I arrive dramatically, dressed in black and gold, with someone so attractive half the Empire gasps and the other half sends letters of complaint."

"I’ll tell the security team to prepare blindfolds," Trevor muttered.

Dax grinned. "You love me."

"I tolerate you," Trevor corrected. "With Lucas’s influence. Barely."

Lucas leaned forward slightly, his tone soft but dangerous. "If your guest causes any sort of scene, any, you’ll be the one cleaning it."

"I’m not afraid of a little cleaning," Dax replied, sitting back with that familiar smugness. "Besides, I’m already sending your names to my tailor. If I must attend a wedding where I don’t get to be the scandal, I’ll at least look the part."

Trevor stood then, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve. "We’re done here."

"You haven’t touched your dessert," Dax called after him.

"I don’t eat sugar when there’s poison in the air."

Lucas rose next, his chair quiet against the marble. "Thank you for lunch, Dax."

The Grand Duke offered a casual wave. "Send me photos of the estate. And Trevor, if you ever want to trade him, my inbox is open."

Trevor didn’t look back.

—

The doors shut behind the Fitzgeralts, their footsteps fading down the corridor with the rustle of expensive fabric and the quiet click of leather soles.

Dax didn’t move.

Not at first.

He let the silence stretch, the lingering warmth of half-finished tea and idle threats curling in the air like smoke. Then, slowly, he leaned back in his chair, the easy grin gone, replaced by something far more measured.

His hand lifted, fingers snapping once.

Captain Neron stepped forward from the shadows near the arched window, uniform crisp, expression unreadable beneath the ceremonial pin at his collar.

"Let the leak happen," Dax said, voice low. "Jason’s too careful. I want him just confident enough to start reaching out."

Neron gave a slight nod. "Any specific parameters?"

"Nothing overt. Just enough that he hears about movement. Lucas’s public schedule."

He paused at the window, the light catching in his pale eyes like tempered steel. "And send everything to Trevor too. He’ll know what to do after Jason leaves his post."

Captain Neron inclined his head. "You believe he will?"

"I know he will." Dax’s voice was calm, but it landed like a blade laid gently on flesh. "Trevor never lets a threat walk out the front door unless he knows where it sleeps."

He stepped away from the window then, expression unreadable, and straightened the sleeve of his jacket with the kind of grace that could only come from long-bred power and patience.

"Let Jason think he’s winning. Let him follow the scent like a hound that forgot the leash." He met Neron’s eyes. "The real hunt will begin the moment he reports."

"Understood."

Dax turned, walking back toward the corridor. His steps were unhurried, his mind already three moves ahead.

"Also," he added over his shoulder, "make sure the staff forgets he was ever stationed here."

—

The hum of the jet was soft and constant, a white noise that wrapped around the polished leather seats and dark walnut interior like a lullaby meant for kings.

Lucas had fallen asleep not long after takeoff, curled beneath a pale blanket with one hand resting near Trevor’s thigh, his breathing slow and steady. The sky outside the window was pale gold, the sun beginning its descent behind the clouds, soft light catching against the platinum band on Lucas’s finger.

The soft chime of his tablet drew his attention—a message from Dax. He exhaled, knowing exactly what he’d received without opening it. Dax and Trevor had similar thoughts, knowing how the other would move based solely on context.

He opened the message without hurry, gliding his thumb across the screen with the same quiet authority he used in meetings that decided the fate of provinces. The preview itself told him enough: Jason had moved. A new name. A townhouse in the western quarter of Saha.

Trevor read through the data in silence, the light from the tablet casting soft shadows beneath his brow. The report was clean, expected, even. Jason had stayed just long enough to be noticed by the watchers who were meant to miss him, then entered through a back corridor flagged for low activity.

Lucas shifted slightly beside him in his sleep, his hand tightening once, faintly, around the fabric near Trevor’s thigh before loosening again. He could feel the warmth of him through the layers, the steady rhythm of his breath, and the quiet trust in the way he leaned into him even in dreams.

His gaze returned to the screen. At the bottom of the file was a name, half-scrubbed but still visible in the metadata.

F.A. provisional node—level II.

Faceless Agatha didn’t leave trails unless they wanted someone to follow. That meant this wasn’t a leak. It was bait.

Trevor leaned back, exhaling once, a long breath that didn’t release tension so much as sharpen it into clarity. He typed his response in measured silence.

Shadow him; don’t corner him. Let him think he’s unseen. I want every contact. Every whisper. Archive all lines, domestic and foreign. Update Windstone; lock Fitzgeralt servers to local encryption. I will inform Serathine that we may act early.

He hit send.

The screen dimmed to black, and for a moment, he allowed the silence to stretch, only the hum of the jet, the warmth of Lucas beside him, and the faint echo of golden dusk staining the sky. His eyes flicked down then, just once. Lucas’s hair was slightly out of place, his lips parted in sleep, and the curve of his brow still held the weight of something unspoken. NovelFire

Trevor reached over, gently brushing a knuckle along Lucas’s temple, careful not to wake him.

"I’ll handle it," he murmured, almost to himself.

Because he always did.

And this time, there would be no hesitation.