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Chapter 12 - His body had never followed the blueprint

The glass door at the head of the conference table slid open with a soft hiss.

Eli stepped through. Except it wasn't Eli anymore.

The beige sweater and pale blue collar were still there, but the posture was different—straighter, heavier. The black-rimmed glasses came off, set aside with slow precision. Without them, the shadows beneath his eyes deepened, and his whole face seemed sharper. Not Eli. Not even close.

Nyxen.

He dropped into the head seat like it had been waiting for him all along.

Thayer didn't sit. He crossed his arms, gaze locked. "So. You're just going to keep wearing him?"

"If forever's an option," Nyxen said, tone dry, almost bored.

"You really think it's safe? Having him here?" Thayer asked. No accusation—just the question hanging heavy, like it always did.

Nyxen didn't blink. "There's nowhere safer for Riven than inside Nexus."

His fingers toyed with a silver pocket watch—old, delicate, worn smooth from years of handling. He flipped it open. Inside, a photo.

Riven. And a little boy.

Thayer's chest tightened. "You went too far earlier."

"You told me to make him feel welcome," Thayer pressed, voice defensive.

"I did. I didn't say make it obvious." Nyxen's eyes lifted, cold behind the half-shadow of his lashes. "Ivan's already suspicious. The others will be soon. Riven can't feel like he's under a lens. If he senses it—we lose him."

Silence stretched, heavy enough to smother.

Finally, Nyxen closed the locket with a sharp metallic snap. The sound cut the room in half.

Thayer's throat went dry.

"You didn't put toys in his office," Nyxen said, voice low, even.

Thayer swallowed. "No."

A pause—long, deliberate. Then a single nod. "Good."

Relief loosened Thayer's chest, but only barely.

Nyxen stood, smooth and unhurried, adjusting his glasses as if the entire exchange had been trivial. His voice dropped lower, colder: "He's heading to the hotel. To the boy. Make sure someone's watching. Quietly. No tails. No slip-ups. Leave no room for error."

And then he turned, vanishing back through the glass door.

The air felt lighter once he was gone, but only just. Thayer realized his hands were clenched into fists. He forced them open, flexing his fingers.

Nexus wasn't just watching Riven. It was already inside his life.

Five years ago, Thayer had seen it all—Nyxen dragging Riven out of that room, thick with omega heat and chaos. He'd watched the man ever since. Not openly. Always from the dark. Always circling, like a ghost that never let go.

Nyxen knew why Riven fled. Why the Virellians cut him off. And—though Thayer never dared say it aloud—Nyxen probably knew about the child too.

So why the secrecy? Why build an entire system just to shield him from shadows he didn't even see?

Thayer never got answers. Only orders. And he'd learned one thing: obey. Keep Riven and the boy safe, no matter what.

"Papa!"

The hotel door clicked open, and Lior was already flying across the room, cartoons abandoned. A blur of tiny legs and wild energy.

Riven barely had time to crouch before the boy launched into his arms, wrapping his neck with fierce little hands.

"Missed me?" Riven murmured, smiling despite himself.

"A lot," Lior whispered into his shoulder, his voice muffled but shining.

Riven inhaled. His son's scent was warm, grounding. The only place that still felt like home.

"You were good while Papa was gone?" he asked, pulling back to see him.

"Didn't cry. Waited like a big kid."

Riven chuckled, ruffling his hair. "That's my brave boy."

But even as he smiled, his eyes flicked toward the ceiling corner—dark, empty, but still. He couldn't shake the itch that someone was watching.

"Come on," he said, rising and keeping hold of Lior's hand. "Time to pack up."

"We're leaving?" The boy's voice dipped.

"Not leaving," Riven corrected. "Moving. Papa's got work now. We're going to our new home."

Lior's face lit up. Pure, easy joy.

Riven wished he could feel the same.

Riven looked at his son—flushed cheeks, eyes sparkling with joy.

He managed a smile. "Yeah. We're staying."

"I like it here," Lior said dreamily, spinning in a slow circle. Then softer, almost reverent: "It smells like Mom. Like home."

Riven froze.

That scent.

Too familiar. Too exact.

It wasn't just floral or warm—it was hers.

His pulse spiked. He lifted his wrist to his nose, breathed in, and the edges of his vision blurred. No. Not here. Not now.

It was happening again.

Heat. Not rut, not Alpha surge. Wrong. His body had never followed the blueprint. Since that night five years ago, it had twisted into something else—pheromones that refused classification. Officially, he was still S-Class Alpha. On paper, unshakable. But in truth? His body bloomed like an Omega, dragging him into cycles he was never meant to endure.

An error in flesh. A secret wrapped in skin.

And somehow, Nexus had filled this place with her scent. Like they'd reached inside him, pulled out the thing he guarded most, and spread it through the air to see how he'd react.

"Papa?" Lior's small voice tugged at him. He tilted his head, studying him with wide, searching eyes. "You okay?"

Riven blinked, forced himself back into the room. He crouched, forcing a smile that felt brittle. "Yeah, baby. I'm okay. Just… tired."

Lior nodded, satisfied, and leaned into him. Warm. Trusting.

Riven held him close, but his thoughts spiraled. If his heat broke here, they'd smell it. They'd know. He needed blockers. Walls. Control. Because this wasn't just a new home. It was a test.

And he couldn't afford to fail—not with Lior watching.

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