Zayden Volkov's convoy of black SUVs rolled through the iron gates like shadows spilling across marble.
The Volkov Palace wasn't just large. It was a kingdom carved in stone and glass. Manicured gardens stretched for acres, fountains whispered secrets in the moonlight, and the main building rose like a crown of obsidian and gold. Every window glowed warm, but the place itself felt cold. Beautiful. Untouched. Like its master.
The cars moved in a slow circle through the courtyard and stopped, engines purring, then silent.
Two lines of maids stood at the grand entrance, heads bowed, hands folded. Waiting.
Zayden's SUV halted right at the steps. A bodyguard lunged to open the door for him, then froze because Zayden Volkov wasn't moving.
He was too busy looking at the beauty in his arms.
Young boy slept quietly against him, nose pressed to Zayden's nape, breath soft. His fingers still clutched Zayden's shirt like he was terrified someone would rip him away, even in sleep.
Everyone the maids and the bodyguards was waiting.
His secretary, Matteo, finally noticed the standstill. He edged toward the SUV, cleared his throat. _Ahem._
Zayden's gaze slid up. Slow, arctic and the kind of look that made grown men rethink their life choices. Like Matteo had just ruined something sacred.
Matteo straightened so fast his spine cracked. "S-Sir. We've arrived."
Zayden blinked. Like waking from a dream. He adjusted his hold, gathering young boy tighter against his chest, and stepped out without a word.
The maids bowed in unison. "Welcome home, Master."
Zayden didn't respond. Didn't even glance at them. All his focus was on not jostling the boy in his arms. He strode into the palace, footsteps echoing on marble.
Behind him, the maids exchanged wide-eyed glances. This wasn't normal. The cold alpha who barely tolerated omegas, who'd never hired one, was carrying a boy like he was made of glass toward his _bedroom._
All eyes turned to the head maid, Mrs. Gable.
She didn't notice at first. She was too busy staring, mouth slightly open, watching their master cradle a half-dead omega like he'd shatter if Zayden breathed wrong. _Since when—_
She turned, lost in thought, and nearly trumble over her steps as she walked straight into Matteo.
"Oh my _gosh!_" she yelped, clutching her chest.
Matteo jumped three feet. "What?! Where?! Who?!" He spun around, hand on his gun.
The maids lost it. Giggles burst out, muffled behind hands.
Mrs. Gable went red. "What are you doing here, empty head?!"
"Who are you calling empty head?!" Matteo clapped a hand to his heart, wounded. "I am the secretary to the most powerful mafia in the world!"
Mrs. Gable scoffed. "_Secretary._ Zayden nearly died because of you."
"Excuse me?!" Matteo gasped dramatically. "I_told_ him the smuggling intel could be a trap!
Mrs Gable mocked her "But _you_ said it was seventy percent true!"
"I told him my instincts!" he tapped his temple. "My sixth sense is razor sharp!"
Mrs. Gable stomped on his foot and he hopped around clutching his leg, yowling, "Ow-ow-ow! My foot! My precious foot!"
The maids were shaking now, shoulders trembling as they tried not to laugh out loud.
"Enough, enough, Matteo and Gable, that's enough."
Both of them whipped their heads toward the voice with dramatic move.
Head bodyguard Marcus Stone stood there, arms crossed, unimpressed. "Where did the boss go?"
Silence.
Everyone froze, then slowly turned to Matteo and Marcus like they'd just remembered the main plot.
Marcus sighed and explained the whole travel mess. Then his face went hard. "Watch the boy. He could be a mole. The boss… seems compromised."
The air turned cold. Every maid's expression sharpened.
"If that boy betrays us," Mrs. Gable said, voice like a blade, "I'll handle with him myself."
Everyone nodded. Grim, loyal and deadly.
Then Matteo piped up, "But my instincts say he's no danger! My sixth sense—"
Every head snapped to him. Cold stares.
Matteo's laugh came out strangled. "Hahaha… I'm just… looking. Observing. You know."
"You better be," Marcus said, icy.
Matteo pulled a sad, grumbling face, Marcus copied him instantly, and the whole room burst out laughing.
— "Oh, that's so funny! Did you all see his face?"
The tension shattered. Maids clapped, cackling, making faces at Matteo. "
"I will kill you!" Matteo pointed at Marcus and bolted.
Matteo tore after him, both of them sprinting out of the palace toward headquarter like teenagers.
Marcus ran for his life, yelling, "I take it back! I take it back!" while Matteo cackled behind him, yelling :
"Today if I caught you, you're dead Marcus."
Laughter exploded behind them. The other bodyguards just shook their heads, grinning. They were used to it. Two old men who forgot their age the second they started fighting.
---
***[UPSTAIRS AT THE SECOND BUILDING]***
Zayden pushed open his bedroom door. The room was massive, dark, dominated by a king-sized bed.
He laid young boy down gently. The boy looked tiny in the center of it. Zayden wrapped him in blankets until he was like a cocoon with a face.
But young boy didn't let go. His fingers stayed twisted in Zayden's suit jacket.
Zayden paused. Then shrugged off the jacket and tucked it beside young boy. The boy's brows furrowed, his grip tightened on the fabric, then smoothed out. He settled again, deep in sleep.
Zayden watched him for a second longer than he should have. Then he left to shower.
He came back in a black t-shirt and sweats, hair damp. He glanced at the cocooned boy one last time and headed for his study.
Outside, he caught the tail end of the chaos — Matteo and Marcus chasing each other while the staff laughed. Zayden shook his head. "Idiots."
He shut the study door behind him. Silence.
He sat at his desk and tried to work but failed to focus.
His mind kept going back to the car. To the bruises he'd seen when he adjusted young boy. Old ones, new ones and none of them looked fake. And the way the boy flinched in his sleep. The way he clung to Zayden's clothes like a lifeline.
And the wedding dress,bare foots , he must loose his shoes while running.
Zayden traced the route on his map, marking where he'd found him. His finger stopped.
He murmured to the empty room, voice low, certain:
"He seems the victim of family violence.
Which mafia territory did he cross?" Zayden's knuckles went white on the armrest.Because whoever put those marks on him just signed their death warrant.
"I need to investigate it."