Quiet Reign
The morning sun broke sharply through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Xavier’s private penthouse, casting long, golden geometric shadows across the minimalist space. For the first time in months, the heavy, suffocating weight of the Knight dynasty felt distant.
Xavier stood by the marble kitchen island, clad in a crisp, clean white shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, a cup of black coffee steaming in his hand. He hadn't slept much, but he wasn't tired. His mind was entirely locked onto the memory of the night before—the warmth of Selah’s skin in that shadow-drenched alcove, the breathless surrender of their first kiss, and the quiet, fierce promise they had sealed between them.