His muscles screamed in protest as he lay down on the bed. Xavier had carefully settled him there, making sure he was properly cleaned and comfortable.
Now, Asher was asleep. He had fallen into a deep, peaceful slumber, leaving Xavier alone with far too much room for his thoughts.
"The mad scientist and the government could also be involved. Asher's theory sounded insane... but it was also possible."
His gaze drifted toward the locked door across the room—the art studio he had wanted to show Asher but never got the chance to.
Turning the knob, he stepped into the spacious room. His eyes immediately landed on an empty canvas standing among countless completed works.
Painting had always been his escape.
And now, before everything changed, he wanted to paint Asher one last time.
Enzo was already tracking the dead scientists. The list of suspects kept growing, and the possibility that his own father might be involved left a dark weight hanging over Xavier's heart.
This ends now.
