Dependency began the moment the sun rose.
I stood in the observation lounge, one hand on the glass, watching the live feed from the residence wing. Elias was awake.
My son.
Three years old and already showing the first dangerous sparks of Alpha traits that made my chest tighten with both pride and fear.
He sat at his low breakfast table, small hands gripping the spoon with surprising strength. The beta nanny had placed a bowl of porridge in front of him. Elias stared at it for a long moment, then pushed it away with a low, instinctive growl — not a child’s tantrum, but the deep, resonant sound of an Alpha testing boundaries.
The nanny froze.
Elias’s golden eyes flashed — the same shade as his father’s — and he reached across the table, grabbing the bowl himself and pulling it back. W
