The sheets shifted behind him.

Alex’s eyes snapped open.

He didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Just stared at the wall—at the cracks in the plaster he’d counted a hundred times—while his pulse hammered in his throat. The baby, warm and heavy against his chest, made a soft, contented sigh, still suckling gently in sleep. Alex tightened his arms around the little body, as if his own skin could shield them from the weight now settling on the bed.

The alpha didn’t speak. Didn’t touch him. Just laid there—too close, too quiet, too intentional.

It was worse when he was like this.

Alex swallowed hard. He could feel the scent curling under his nose, faint but present—claiming, even without contact. His stomach twisted. The dull ache of pregnancy throbbed low in his back, but he stayed still, every muscle locked to keep from waking the child.

But if the alpha reached for their son- his son—

He would kill him. Even if it cost him everything.

And so, he waited. Eyes open. Body curved protectively. Jaw clenched so hard it ached.

Silence stretched like a wire about to snap.