The child's voice cracked with fury as he clung to his father's sleeve.
"Dad! It's that bastard! He hit me! It hurts—make him pay!"
The moment those words were spoken, the father's instincts sharpened.
He followed the direction his son pointed toward, already prepared to assert dominance on behalf of his cub. But before his gaze even landed on Jared, something else intercepted him completely.
A presence.
Tall.
Unmoving.
Heavy with Alpha pressure so dense it warped the air around it.
Elliot.
The man froze.
Recognition struck him instantly—like scent memory locking onto a predator he had only ever heard of in warnings whispered through business circles of Averna.
He had spent his entire life memorizing names and faces of those above his rank, those whose territory he was never meant to step on. That caution had kept him alive, kept his pack position stable.
But nothing in his calculations had prepared him for this.
Presgrave.
Here.
In a kindergarten.
