Alex stirred in his sleep, lashes fluttering as though he were caught between dream and nightmare. His chest felt tight, as if invisible hands were gripping his lungs. A whisper stirred in the back of his head—soft, sweet, familiar: "My son…" It coiled like smoke, dragging him deeper into darkness.
But then something stronger cut through the haze. Arms wrapped around him, firm, trembling. A warmth that didn't belong to shadows but to someone real, someone desperate.
"Alex," Liam's voice cracked, urgent, almost breaking. "Wake up. Please—just wake up."
Alex's eyes flew open with a sharp gasp, and the first thing he saw was Liam's face—ashen, panic-stricken, green eyes wet at the corners. He was shaking, holding Alex like he'd vanish if he loosened his grip.
"Liam?" Alex croaked, his throat dry. "What—what's wrong?"
