Chapter 19: Protocol

Chapter 19: Chapter 19: Protocol

Sebastian had known the protocol long before Claude reminded him of it.

Confirmed berserk markers were not considered private medical information in quite the same way as an inconvenient injury or an early rut. A dominant alpha approaching pheromonal collapse posed a risk to everyone around him, and Sebastian’s rank made that risk political as well as biological.

Claude was required to notify the Fitzgeralt household.

After that, the Imperial Household would be informed through the appropriate channels.

Sebastian had known all of this when he ordered the fourth set of tests.

Knowing did not make it less frustrating.

Claude had given him two hours.

Not because the notification could legally be delayed indefinitely, but because twelve years of treating Sebastian had apparently earned him enough sympathy for one courtesy.

You have two hours to tell your parents yourself. After that, I’m informing the household whether you have done it or not.

Sebastian had thanked him by informing Claude that betrayal was an unattractive quality in a physician.

Claude had left with Sebastian’s remaining military-grade suppressants.

That had been forty-six minutes ago.

Sebastian now sat behind the desk in his private office with an open report in front of him and absolutely no intention of calling Lucas or Trevor yet.

Irena occupied one of the armchairs beside the windows.

Timi stood near the fireplace.

Neither seemed willing to leave.

Rain moved steadily over Fitzgeralt beyond the tall glass panes, turning the northern estate into layered shades of gray and dark green. Mist had settled between the evergreens surrounding Sebastian’s private residence, partially obscuring the covered gallery connecting it to the main Fitzgeralt palace.

Usually, Sebastian liked weather like this.

Today it made the main residence look far too close.

He signed the final page of an estate procurement report and placed it aside.

"You both have actual jobs."

Irena did not look up from her tablet. "This is currently one of them."

Timi adjusted the cuff of his charcoal shirt. "Claude updated your immediate security and command staff."

"I was present for that conversation."

"Then this should not surprise you."

"It doesn’t surprise me. It annoys me."

"That sounds healthier than denial," Irena said.

Sebastian looked at her.

She finally lifted her hazel eyes.

"No?"

"Would you like a posting on the eastern border?"

"Too rainy."

"You are sitting in Fitzgeralt."

"Yes, but this is respectable rain."

Timi made a quiet sound suspiciously close to a laugh.

Sebastian returned to his screen.

His immediate staff had been informed before Claude left the diagnostic room. There had been no way around that either. Someone needed to know if Sebastian deteriorated before the household notification became official, particularly when the man in question commanded military personnel and possessed enough pheromonal strength to make an uncontrolled episode everyone else’s problem very quickly.

Irena knew.

Timi knew.

Melanie had been informed because she controlled Sebastian’s schedule and therefore needed to cancel everything Claude had just forbidden him from doing.

The rest of Fitzgeralt did not... Yet.

Sebastian glanced at the time in the corner of his monitor.

One hour and eight minutes remained.

His phone sat facedown beside his hand.

Lucas was probably somewhere in the main residence reorganizing something that had functioned perfectly well before he discovered it.

Trevor had a security meeting until noon.

Sebastian could walk across the covered gallery, tell them both himself, endure the inevitable disaster, and preserve at least the illusion that he remained in control of his own medical information.

Instead, he opened another report.

Irena watched him do it.

"You’re procrastinating."

"I’m working."

"You’ve read that same paragraph three times."

Sebastian looked down.

Unfortunately, she was correct.

"That proves thoroughness."

"It proves your parents are forty-seven meters away and you would rather review wastewater contracts."

Timi turned from the fireplace.

"Forty-seven?"

Irena shrugged. "Security plans."

Sebastian slowly raised his eyes.

"You measured the distance between my house and theirs?"

"Timi did."

Sebastian looked at him.

Timi’s expression remained professional.

"It is relevant to emergency response time."

"Of course it is."

Sebastian leaned back in his chair.

His hair was loose today, dark strands brushing his shoulders above a black knit shirt with the sleeves pushed to his forearms. He had dressed for bloodwork rather than crisis management and had no intention of changing simply because his parents were about to discover he had confirmed berserk markers.

Lucas would probably object to the shirt.

Lucas objected to clothing whenever frightened.

That thought made Sebastian’s humor fade.

His parents had lived through enough dominant-alpha instability to understand exactly what the report meant.

Trevor would become practical about security, medication, and .

Lucas would look at Sebastian as though sheer parental outrage could intimidate his biology into behaving.

Sebastian would rather face the imperial medical council.

His wrist monitor vibrated once.

He checked it.

The readings remained elevated but steady.

Irena noticed.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like two people have decided breathing requires supervision."

"That is not a medical answer."

"I’m not speaking to a physician."

Timi crossed the room and took the chair opposite Sebastian’s desk.

"I’m going to ask anyway. Headache?"

"Yes."

"Red vision?"

"Not since this morning."

"Chest pressure?"

"Mild."

Irena’s expression tightened.

Sebastian sighed.

"I am not going berserk in the next ten minutes."

"That is comforting," she said. "What about eleven?"

"Irena."

She lifted both hands slightly and returned to her tablet.

Sebastian understood why they were there.

That made their presence only marginally less bothersome.

The fourth laboratory set had confirmed what the earlier three had concealed beneath medication and temporary improvement. His pheromonal regulation was deteriorating despite suppressants, and the first established markers of the final cascade were present.

Claude could not predict whether the collapse would happen in days, weeks, or longer.

Nobody could.

That uncertainty was precisely why the protocol existed.

Sebastian had enforced it on other dominant alphas himself.

He had never imagined he would eventually become the person arguing about it from the wrong side of the desk.

His phone vibrated.

He reached for it immediately.

Melanie. Need to see you. Now.

Sebastian frowned. He typed back. Office.

No explanation followed.

That was unusual enough that Irena noticed his expression.

"What?"

"Melanie is coming."

Timi checked his own phone automatically.

"No security alert."

"Then perhaps she has finally decided to resign."

"You would last three days without her," Irena said.

"Four."

"Optimistic."

Sebastian checked the time again.

Fifty-one minutes.

He should call his parents now.

The reasonable part of his mind knew that.

The rest of him was considering whether Claude would technically violate protocol if Sebastian disappeared into the northern forests until the two hours expired.

The office door opened before he could develop the plan.

Melanie entered without waiting for permission.

That alone was enough to make Sebastian sit straighter.

Her brown hair had been pinned back that morning, but several strands had escaped around her face, and she carried her tablet in one hand while her phone remained unlocked in the other.

She closed the door behind her.

Irena lowered her tablet.

Timi stood.

Sebastian looked between them and then back to Melanie.

"What happened?"

"There’s an article."

His irritability intensified.

"About the laboratory results?"

"No."

That answer was worse.

Melanie crossed the office and placed her tablet on the desk in front of him.

A photograph filled the screen.

Sebastian recognized the bathroom at Zion’s wedding immediately.

His own black ceremonial clothing.

Blood at the corner of his mouth.

Nero stood behind him, white-blond hair falling over one shoulder while the angle compressed the distance between them until they appeared almost close enough to touch.

It did not look like an argument.

Sebastian’s gaze moved slowly upward to the headline.

THE LOVE THEY CANNOT AFFORD: SEBASTIAN FITZGERALT’S SECRET BATTLE WITH BERSERK — AND THE ENIGMA PRINCE HE REFUSES TO CLAIM

For several seconds, Sebastian forgot entirely about the fifty-one minutes remaining before he had to tell his parents anything.