"Daddy said you make things," he said. "With fire."
"I do. I make sculptures and railings and gates. Art made out of metal."
"Can you make dinosaurs?"
The question surprised a smile out of me before I could stop it. I caught myself immediately, smoothing my expression back to neutral, but Eli had already seen it. He tensed, pressing closer to Dalvin.
"Sorry," I said quietly. "I wasn't laughing at you. I just liked your question. And yes, I can make dinosaurs. I've never tried before, but I could learn."
Eli was silent for a moment. Then, so quietly I almost didn't hear it, he said, "Could you make a purple one?"
My throat went tight. Beside me, Dalvin held his breath.
"I could make a purple one," I said. "If you want. It might take me a while to get it right, but I could try."
Eli nodded slowly. Then he turned his face back into Dalvin's neck, the conversation apparently concluded.
It wasn't acceptance. It wasn't trust. It was one small question, one tentative reach across the chasm of fear that Vernon had carved into this child's heart.
Rosa left an hour later, after Eli had fallen asleep in Dalvin's arms, exhausted by the emotional weight of thereunion. Dalvin carried him to a small bed in the corner of the family room, tucked Chompers in beside him, and stood watching him sleep with an expression that made my eyes sting.
"He asked you a question," Dalvin said without turning around. "He never asks alphas questions. He just hides."
"He asked about dinosaurs."
"He asked if you could make something for him." Dalvin turned, and his eyes were bright with unshed tears. "That's huge, Min-ho. That's enormous. You have no idea how big that is."
I crossed to him and pulled him into my arms. He came willingly, pressing his face against my shoulder, his body shaking with emotion he couldn't contain.
"I'm going to make him the best purple dinosaur anyone has ever seen," I said against his hair. "It's going to take me six months and it's going to be the ugliest thing I've ever created and he's going to love it."
Dalvin laughed, watery and broken and beautiful. "He will. He absolutely will."
We stood there in the dim light of the family room, holding each other, while Eli slept and the afternoon faded toward evening.
The VeilWatch representative arrived two hours later.
She was a beta woman in a crisp navy suit, carrying a tablet and documents. Eli was still asleep with Rosa watching over him, and Dalvin and I had retreated to a small office adjacent to the family room.
"Mr. Irvin," she said, all business. "The trial period concludes soon. I'm here to record your official decision regarding the bond with Dalvin Grace."
"I accept."
The words came out without hesitation.
She raised an eyebrow. "You don't want to review the documentation first?"
"I understand the implications. I accept."
Dalvin's hand found mine beneath the table and squeezed hard enough to hurt.
"And you, Mr. Grace? Do you consent to the finalization of this bond?"
"I do."
The bureaucracy of forever took twenty minutes. Signatures on tablets and papers, official records that would bind us together in the eyes of the law.
When the representative finally left, Dalvin turned to me with tears streaming down his face.
