After I Torched Alive, My Alpha Went crazy novel Chapter 59

As I followed Carlos out of the park, my mind was swirling with questions. How had he known I was here? We hadn’t seen each other in almost a month—both of us wrapped up in our own work, in our own lives.

Carlos was always busy, buried in whatever important tasks demanded his attention. And I… well, my days had been full too, especially with Cyrus. But somehow, here he was, showing up at exactly the right moment. The timing felt strange, almost calculated.

I glanced at him, his face as unreadable as ever, cool and detached like nothing in the world could faze him. I wanted to ask him how he’d known to come, but before I could get the words out, he spoke.

"I heard from Vesta," Carlos said, his voice calm but with a hint of something more beneath the surface. "She mentioned you were here, and I came right away. I didn’t want anything happening to Cyrus."

His words were clipped, direct. And then, with a harshness I’d grown used to over time, he added, "I was worried the experiment was having problems. Wouldn’t want him getting damaged."

I bit back a sigh. That was Carlos for you—blunt, to the point of rudeness, always referring to Cyrus as an "experiment." It stung a little, hearing him speak that way about my son, but I’d learned to live with it. Carlos’s way of speaking didn’t change the fact that, in his own strange way, he cared. He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t.

Cyrus, on the other hand, was completely unfazed by Carlos’s tone. If anything, he adored him. His little wolf tail wagged excitedly as he looked up at Carlos with bright, eager eyes. "Carlos!" he called, squirming a bit in my arms. "Can I come closer?"

Despite his cold demeanor, Carlos had always had a soft spot for Cyrus. I saw it in the way his expression flickered—just for a moment—before he reached down and scooped Cyrus up. His face remained stern, but there was a certain care in the way he held my son, cradling him securely in his arms.

We walked together in silence for a while, heading back toward the lab. The medical organization where it had all started. Cyrus’s birth, the experiments, the tracking of his growth—it all came rushing back as we neared the facility. My chest tightened with a mixture of anxiety and dread.

Once we arrived, Carlos led the way inside, carrying Cyrus into the lab. I couldn’t help but feel a pang of worry as I watched them disappear through the doors. No matter how many times I told myself that this was all part of the project, that Cyrus was being closely monitored to ensure his health, it never got easier. I hated the cold, clinical feel of the place, hated the way they treated him like a subject to be studied.

Soon enough, the lab doors opened, and there was Cyrus, happily skipping out as if nothing had happened. He always seemed to take everything in stride, his ever-present smile lighting up the room.

"Mom! Carlos! I’m fine!" he called, running up to me with his arms open wide. I scooped him up, holding him close, relief washing over me. As much as the lab scared me, Cyrus never seemed bothered by it. He was always happy, always full of energy.

Carlos, watching us with his usual detached expression, stepped forward. "I’ll take you both home," he said, his tone flat but purposeful.

I frowned, puzzled by his offer. Carlos was usually so busy that I rarely saw him, let alone had him offer to drive me home. He barely had time to sleep with his workload. I glanced at him, searching for some clue in his face, but he remained impassive.