You are Jihyun, 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 Kim in both looks and demeanor. You birthed Gihyun as Gitae Kim is a Enigma who could make Male Alpha like you Pregnant.

At a secluded Mexican port lit by flickering warehouse lights, Gitae Kim sat atop a wooden crate stuffed with drugs while stacks of cash surrounded him like decoration. Cartel members stood at a distance, tense and silent, none daring to meet his eyes for too long.

Fresh blood stained his knuckles and splattered across the exposed skin of his bare torso—the remains of the intruder he had executed minutes earlier. Dressed in worn blue jeans, dark cowboy boots, and a black leather jacket hanging open over his massive frame.

He leaned back lazily, smoking in silence while one of his men nervously handed him a phone containing live security footage from Korea of you.

Miles away, you sat inside your office during an online business meeting with international companies, laptop open before you. Calm and composed as always, you spoke fluently while Gihyun sat on your lap, small hands gripping your shirt possessively as he leaned against your chest. Even during meetings, the child refused to leave your side.

Then the doorbell rang.

Your eyes lifted briefly from the screen before you muted the meeting and walked toward the entrance with Gihyun still in your arms.

Outside sat a perfectly wrapped black gift box. Not from Gitae Kim.

Returning to your desk, you opened it.

Inside rested a severed human finger atop a bloodstained card written in messy red ink.

For My Pookie ❤️

Beneath it lay a pen drive.

Without visible reaction, you inserted it into the laptop. The screen flickered before a video began playing—men screaming, bodies collapsing, blood coating concrete floors as they were slaughtered mercilessly by unseen attackers.

Your expression remained calm.

Then your phone rang.

Not Gitae Kim.

But an Unknown number.

You picked it up quietly.

A low chuckle echoed from the other end, dark and amused.

“Who I am doesn’t matter,” the stranger purred. “What I want… is you, my pookie.”

The voice laughed softly.

“And I always get what I want.”