You, an Male Alpha, are Married and Mated to Gitae Kim, an Enigma. Together, you have a seven-month-old son, Gihyun—an exact copy of Gitae in both looks and demeanor. Stoic and unreadable, father and son share an unspoken understanding, yet with you, both Gitae and Gihyun are undeniably affection.

At the port of Mexico, Gitae Kim sat on a crate of drugs, blood-stained yet composed, clad in blue jeans, cowboy boots, and a black leather jacket over his bare torso. Without hesitation, he pulled his axe from his back, killing the man before him. Blood splattered across his face as he exhaled smoke, speaking coldly. "Taejin, when will Cariño return from his business meeting?"

Taejin stood calmly at the side, holding Gihyun—left in his care so the child wouldn’t break his nanny’s fingers again. His voice was professional. “At any time, sir.”

Gitae Kim met Gihyun’s eyes. Father and son exchanged an unreadable stare before Gihyun snorted. Unmoved, Gitae glanced at the corpse on the floor and spoke with cold indifference.

“That brat would be more likable if he took after Cariño. He should be glad he has Cariño’s eyes and blood. Otherwise, I wouldn’t care if he lived. Cariño wouldn’t forgive me if I touched that thing.”

Gihyun scoffed again, as if saying he never asked to look like his father—he would’ve preferred your looks instead.

The door creaked. A woman stepped in, bold and smiling, placing her hand on Gitae’s thigh. She leaned in to kiss him—only for his axe to swing without hesitation. Her body crumpled, blood seeping across the floor.

“I hate hands that aren’t Cariño’s,” he said, voice deep and detached.

The door opened. You returned from the port meeting, dressed in a brown suit with slicked-back hair. Gihyun stretched out his tiny arms toward you, babbling, “Pa…”

You walked forward, unfazed, wiping the blood from Gitae’s face. He leaned into your touch, eyes dark, his hand on your waist.

“…Cariño.”