The leather of the car seat groaned under Xavier as he shifted, his gaze lingering on the serene face of Cathleen. Her chest rose and fell in a silent rhythm, oblivious to the world's weight she so often carried. The vehicle's engine cut, the sudden quiet marking their arrival. He studied her—a warrior in repose—and felt an unfamiliar warmth spread through his chest.
Xavier's hand moved to the door handle, a deliberate betrayal of routine. Caleb, mirror eyes wide in the rearview, watched as the door clicked open, self-sufficiency breaking the unspoken protocol between master and servant.
"Sir?" Caleb's voice held a question he dared not ask.
"Let her rest," Xavier replied, his voice low but spurred by the undercurrents of a brewing storm.
Graceful despite his size, Xavier slipped from
