The house was silent, except for the faint hum of the lights in the corridor. Eren's heart pounded as he stepped into the darkened room at the end of the hall—the one everyone whispered about but no one dared enter.
Darius was already there, pacing slowly, his presence heavy and suffocating. Eren felt the weight of his father's gaze, sharp and unrelenting.
"You're late," Darius said, his voice calm but edged with steel. "Do you know how important it is to follow instructions?"
Eren swallowed, nodding silently, lowering his eyes. He had learned long ago that speaking too much would only give his father reason to punish him further.
"This room… it's for discipline," Darius continued, circling him like a predator. "Everything I do here is for your good. All my attention, all my care—it's for you. But you must behave. You must understand your place."
Eren's hands trembled slightly. His lean frame stiffened as his father's words pressed on him—not physically, but with a force heavier than any touch. Every command, every accusation, felt like chains tightening around him.
"You see," Darius said, finally stopping in front of him, "you are the most important to me in this family. Everything revolves around you. And yet… you make it difficult. You must learn, Eren. Learn to carry yourself properly, to obey, to understand what it means to be… mine."
Eren nodded again, swallowing the lump in his throat. His father's obsession was suffocating, controlling, inescapable. And yet, the fear and tension that gripped him also sparked a cold, simmering fire in his chest—a part of him that would one day need to reclaim control.
Eren stepped out of the dark room, his body tense, every muscle coiled from the encounter. The hallway seemed brighter, almost painfully so, but the weight in his chest hadn't lifted.
He pressed a hand to his temple, trying to steady the storm inside him. His heartbeat wasn't just fear anymore—it was a mix of suppressed emotions, anger, and something else he barely understood. A pull, a vulnerability, one he had always hidden, now flickered dangerously close to the surface.
No one could see it. Not his father. Not anyone. This alpha side—fragile, sensitive, and deeply reactive—had to remain buried. Eren had learned early that showing it meant weakness, and weakness meant danger.
Alone in his room later, he finally let himself slump against the wall. His long red hair fell over his pale face, hiding the trembling of his hands. He allowed a single, silent sigh to escape, a moment of release that no one would ever witness.
"Control… always control," he whispered to himself.
And yet, beneath the calculated calm, a small, hidden part of him—the part only he knew—softly ached. It was that secret, that vulnerable core, that would shape everything he did: the obsessions he harbored, the people he watched, and the dangerous persona he displayed to the world.
Eren rose slowly, smoothing his hair and straightening his lean frame. Outwardly, he was magnetic, controlled, untouchable. But inside, he was a storm, a secret waiting to ignite.