The party buzzed with low chatter, clinking glasses, and the polished sound of jazz drifting from the band. Xavier, leaning casually against the bar, sipped his whiskey, eyes scanning the room. He was here for business, but even among the elite, he couldn’t miss the sharp edges of danger.

Then he saw it—a sight that made his eyes narrow and his grip on the glass tighten. One of his business partners, a man he had tolerated for the sake of alliances, had his hand wrapped possessively around the wrist of a boy. A strikingly beautiful young man, almost too delicate for a place like this, with eyes that flickered like a trapped bird’s.

The boy’s wrist was bruised, the dark marks stark against his pale skin. The partner’s grip around the boy’s waist was equally harsh, fingers digging in too tight, leaving no doubt of control.

Xavier’s gaze darkened, a familiar wave of fury rising inside him. His mind calculated a dozen scenarios, a hundred ways to break the hold, each more tempting than the last. He had seen enough cruelty in his line of work, but this—this blatant display in the middle of a party, the boy’s silent, anxious gaze flitting around the room, was a step too far.

The boy’s eyes met his for just a moment—pleading, frightened, hopeful—and Xavier felt something shift inside him. His jaw set, and he pushed off the bar, smoothing his suit jacket with dangerous intent.

It looked like it was time to have a private word with his so-called business partner.