The doors of Imagine Station swung open with a polished hiss, releasing a wave of glittering lights and laughter. The vast interior was a kingdom of childhood dreams—shelves overflowing with plush animals, rows of dolls lined like porcelain soldiers, trains chugging along miniature tracks, and entire walls gleaming with puzzles and storybooks.
Julian's wide eyes grew even rounder, brighter, as though the stars themselves had fallen into his gaze. He kicked excitedly in Zayn's arms, pointing his tiny finger at the wonderland before him.
"Mama! Mama!" he squealed, tugging at Isidore's sleeve, his voice bubbling with joy.
Zayn chuckled, lowering his head to tap Julian's small nose with one finger. "Patience, little prince," he drawled in a sing-song tone, his lilac eyes glimmering with amusement. "All those treasures will soon be yours. Every toy, every teddy. Today, you conquer your kingdom."
The child clapped his sticky hands, his giggles ringing like bells, his curls bouncing as Zayn shifted him closer. The sound softened even Isidore's taut expression. For once, the heaviness in his chest lightened as he watched his son's joy. Julian's laughter filled the space between his ribs, easing the ache that often lingered there.
They moved together toward a towering display where plush teddies stared down with glass-button eyes, their stitched smiles waiting for small hands to claim them. Among them loomed a great brown bear—larger than Julian himself—its fur rich and inviting.
The boy's mouth dropped open, his little arms stretching outward. "Big teddy!" His voice cracked with delight, his whole body straining toward it. His eyes glittered like twin crystal oceans.
"Almost, almost," Zayn teased, rocking him upward in his arms as though dangling a prize just out of reach. "Shall we storm the castle of bears, hm?"
But while joy fluttered inside this cocoon of family warmth, shadows coiled outside it—unseen, sharp, deliberate.
Not two shadows this time, but four.
The first pair lingered near a painted wall where trains circled endlessly along their tracks. They were not polished men of secrecy but rougher edges—eyes darting, voices low, their presence poorly masked beneath casual coats. Their hunger was not for orders or duty, but for profit.
One of them, the lankier figure with messy hair and restless hands, leaned close to his partner, whispering with a goofy grin. "Did you see it? That smile on the little one's face? Gods, he's too cute. Like a doll come alive."
His companion, broader and colder, scowled, his jaw clenched. "Stop spouting nonsense. Cute won't fill our pockets. That boy is worth a fortune. An omega raising him alone? The ransom will make us rich."
But the first man barely listened. His gaze was fixed on Julian, who now pressed both palms eagerly against the glass separating him from the great teddy. His eyes were hearts, his lips parting in a sigh of awe.
"Adorable," the lanky one murmured, lost in the sight.
A sharp smack landed at the back of his neck. He yelped in pain, spinning toward his partner.
"stop being childish and Behave like a man," the other hissed, his eyes narrowing into slits. "We are not here to admire. We are here to take."
The lanky one rubbed his neck, his grin stubbornly lingering. "Still… you saw those curls? That laugh? He's like—like a little sun."
The broader man groaned, exasperated, dragging him by the arm to keep them hidden against the wall.
Unbeknownst to them, across the vast hall, another pair of eyes had also marked Isidore, Julian, and Zayn.
Tristan Ashford's men.
Unlike the kidnappers, these two moved with practiced silence, their coats blending with the crowd, their expressions sharp, disciplined. They were trained watchers, predators cloaked in civility.
One adjusted his gaze slightly, not to see Julian's smile but to study the two strangers lurking near the train wall. His lips thinned. "have you seen them," he muttered.
His partner followed the tilt of his gaze, his dark brows furrowing. "yeah they are childish."
"No. look at their eyes. Fixed. Not on Isidore. Not on maverick.but The child."
The second lowered his glass, his instincts bristling. "Kidnappers."
The word carried weight, heavy as iron.
He smacked the back of his partner's head lightly, frustration twisting his tone. "Why didn't you say it earlier?"
The first shot him a glare. "I wanted confirmation. You think I call every suspicious glance a threat? Now, look properly. Their hunger is plain. They watch the child as wolves watch lambs."
The second man adjusted the focus, inhaling sharply as he studied Julian—his golden curls, his eyes aren't like his mother hmmm.... The resemblance struck him like lightning.
"Wait…" he whispered, voice hushed with dawning realization. "That boy… he has Isidore's hair. His face. There's no mistake. That this little guy is his son."
The first turned to him quickly. "You sure?"
"As sure as breath. Didn't Master Tristan himself say Isidore was an omega? Look at the child's features. He is a proof blood of Isidore Davenant."
For a heartbeat both men were silent, the truth sinking in.
"Then…" The first licked his lips nervously, scratching his chin. "Then Isidore… he is married?"
The second's eyes widened, doubt shadowing his certainty. "Married? But where is the alpha?"
They both frowned in unison, confusion swirling like smoke between them.
"If he is married, surely his alpha should be here," the first murmured. "Guarding both omega and child. Yet I see only him, the boy, and… Maverick." His gaze flickered toward Zayn, flamboyant and radiant as he pretended to wrestle a teddy bear into Julian's lap.
"Exactly. Strange."
Still, duty remained. The cameras hidden within their coats clicked softly, each shot a stolen fragment of truth. They recorded the boy's curls, the way Isidore bent protectively over him, the curve of Zayn's arm around both. They captured the essence of a family—one that Tristan Ashford would wish to unravel thread by delicate thread.
Meanwhile, across the store, the kidnappers still muttered, plotting.
The lanky one exhaled like a lovesick fool. "He's perfect. I almost don't want to take him away, you know?"
His partner growled, gripping his shoulder hard enough to bruise. "we will take him, and we will be rich. Stop thinking with your heart. Think with your stomach."
The other winced, but his gaze strayed again toward Julian, who now sat on Zayn's shoulders, clapping his tiny hands as if perched on a throne. The sight weakened him further, a foolish grin spreading.
From their corner, Tristan's spies exchanged a glance heavy with calculation.
"They're amateurs," the first murmured, disdain etched in his voice. "But amateurs desperate enough to try. If they make a move here, it will be chaos."
The second lowered his glass, his eyes sharp as blades. "Then we will wait. If they strike, we strike harder. But For now, we will only watch… and gather."
And so, amidst the bright music and laughter of Imagine Station, among the glittering shelves and plush teddies, two hunts began in silence.
Julian laughed, reaching his tiny arms for the enormous brown bear that loomed above him, blissfully unaware. Zayn swooped it down with a dramatic flourish, pressing the giant toy against the child's chest until he vanished behind it. The boy's squeals of joy rang like bells, filling the store with innocence.
But above, behind, beyond—eyes lingered. Cameras clicked. Hearts burned with greed.
Isidore's pale gaze softened as he watched his son laugh, but somewhere deep inside, a shadow stirred. A flicker of unease he could not yet name.
For in that moment, between the shelves of toys, he was not merely a father with his child. He was prey encircled by hunters—some with hunger, some with orders, all closing in.
And though the day seemed to promise teddy bears and laughter, beneath it ran the whisper of inevitability: wolves had scented the sun.
Zayn, with his usual reckless indulgence, had turned into a child himself—grabbing one toy after another as though he were on a quest to empty the store. His arms filled with treasures, he kept piling them higher and higher until even the crowd began to eye him with disbelief.
Julian, nestled in the wonder of it all, tried to lift a massive brown teddy bear that was nearly larger than his own body. The weight overwhelmed his tiny arms, and his little voice came out in a garbled plea.
"Mama… it's so many… come on, get them up!"
Isidore, suppressing a sigh, stepped forward to gather a portion of the toys from his son's small arms. His patience was tender yet strained.
"Zayn, it is enough," Isidore chided, his tone calm but firm. "This is too much for one child."
But Zayn, already glowing with mischief, refused to relent. His grin widened, and he pressed on like a boy drunk on his own play.
"It's okay, Davenant. You can keep them all, as long as I get to choose. Your penthouse is big enough to carry this entire Imagine Station!"
Isidore's beige eyes narrowed, his aristocratic glare slicing through the air. Zayn, caught in the sharp rebuke, raised his hands in mock surrender.
"Ohh—sorry, sorry," he muttered, feigning defeat.
Still, the toys remained in abundance around them like mountains, and now Zayn began scanning the store for staff. He waved his hand with authority, signaling two men in worker uniforms. They approached cautiously—two figures who were not truly what they appeared to be.
The lankier one nearly stumbled, his voice faltering. But his companion, sharper, seized the moment. Their heads bowed low, and one of them spoke in a practiced tone.
"Yes, sir. How can we assist you?"
Zayn, oblivious to their hidden intent, gestured to the fortress of toys he had amassed.
"I've bought too much. I want all of these loaded into my car trunk—immediately."
The men exchanged a fleeting glance. Their mission had been to take the child, yet opportunity had disguised itself in Zayn's command. With obedient nods, they bent to their task.
Meanwhile, Zayn returned to Julian's side. Isidore had already lifted his son into his arms, cradling him against the fine silk of his coat. Zayn crouched low, his Lilac eyes gleaming as he met the boy's gaze.
"So, was it fun with your uncle Zayn here?"
Julian's laughter burst out like bells, his small hands stretching toward his uncle. His voice, sweet and innocent, declared, "I love Uncle!"
The words pierced Zayn's heart in a way nothing else could. With a grin, he scooped Julian from Isidore's arms and swung him gently into the air. The boy squealed in delight, his golden hair catching the store lights like threads of sunlight.
"Careful with Julian," Isidore warned, his tone clipped though concern flickered in his eyes. "You might hurt him."
Zayn brought Julian close, pressing the child's nose playfully against his own.
"Don't worry. Every child loves to fly high, isn't that right, little prince?"
Julian giggled again, rubbing his tiny nose against Zayn's with utter devotion. The moment lingered, warm and unbroken, before they moved on.
The group exited the shop, their arms now laden with far more than they had intended. Outside, the air was sweetened by the scent of spun sugar. Julian's eyes caught the sight immediately—cotton candy, bright as a dream.
Zayn, giving in to his little prince who's silent yearning, guided him to the stand. The shopkeeper twirled sugar into a giant pink cloud, and Julian seized it with innocent greed, sinking into the sweetness without hesitation. His cheeks dimpled, his lips sticky, yet his joy was boundless.
Zayn's laughter echoed, light and unrestrained, while Isidore's gaze softened. For once, his heart felt unburdened. Yet he was practical still, his voice bringing them back to earth.
"It's almost lunchtime, Zayn. We should get going now."
"Yes, yes," Zayn replied, brushing stray sugar from Julian's face. "Almost."
But even in their merriment, unseen eyes lingered.
High above in the throng, hidden among the crowd, the spies kept their watch. Confusion marred their thoughts—their quarry was not only Isidore and his child, but the kidnappers had already begun to weave their plot. The first spy whispered, his voice low as smoke.
"Should we return to Master Tristan and explain everything?"
The second, more cautious, narrowed his gaze.
"We have gathered enough. They are not alone, and danger circles closer than they know. Yes we'll return."
Without another word, they melted into the sea of strangers, vanishing like mist at dawn.
And still, Julian's laughter rang in the air—sweet, unknowing, fragile as glass.