"Happy birthday, son." Alpha Steve repeated when Dante did not move from his position.
Dante slowly turned to him and stared at him in hostility. "To what do I owe this?"
His father stood up and moved to the front of the table, then he sat facing Dante.
"To the fact that you're my son." He replied unfazed by Dante's hostility.
Dante chuckled dryly. "Are you learning how to joke, dad."
"Why will you ask that?" Alpha Steve feigned ignorance.
"Are you kidding me? When have you ever addressed me as son? Or when have you ever wished me a happy birthday?" Dante's spat out exasperatedly.
Alpha Steve said nothing but kept staring at him.
Angered by his father's silence, Dante punched the wall beside him, leaving blood smeared on his knuckles and the painting on the wall to peel off.
