Chapter 2 Vengeance and Salvation
893 Words
"Dammit..." With a swift motion, Xavier discarded the rifle into an officer's arms, vaulting over the police barricade to reach Yasmine.
His entourage of bodyguards swarmed in, providing cover with umbrellas and wrapping them in warm blankets.
"These guys from the Henderson crew?" Xavier inquired, nudging one of the motionless bodies with his foot. Its blank stare returned nothing.
"Yes, Chief," came the reply from one of his men.
"By dawn, the Henderson name will be history," Xavier declared. His stride was determined as he headed for the helicopter. "That's a promise."
*****
Back at the Quinlan Mansion, Xavier tenderly placed Yasmine into the bathtub. A momentary softness played across his features as he looked down at her.
The sight of Xavier returning with a woman in tow had everyone in the household wide-eyed, but none dared to pry.
Nobody had a death wish.
Observing Yasmine's worn-out state, Xavier was filled with a deep sense of protectiveness. He gently stripped her of her dress and bathed her. The stream of water cleansed her wounds under his careful touch while Yasmine silently lay in the water like a lifeless doll.
His movements were practiced, almost as if he had rehearsed them in his mind countless times.
However, a closer look would reveal the tension in his muscles. It was a silent battle against his desires.
He was, after all, a man of strong s****l desire. Facing the woman he cherished in such a state was a true test of his resolve.
But Xavier was no ordinary man. He was the head of the Quinlan family, a figure of power and cold resolve to the outside world, revered and feared by those within his circle.
His self-discipline was unmatched, even in the most challenging circumstances.
The woman before him was his to protect, now and always. He would not let anyone harm her, not even himself.
He carefully dried Yasmine with a towel, applied ointment to her wounds, and adjusted the room to a comfortable warmth before gently placing her on the bed.
Then, Xavier shed his drenched shirt, revealing a muscular back and arms, each line a testament to his strength and determination.
However, his shower was hasty, driven by an urgency to return to Yasmine's side, to watch over her, his treasure, the woman he intended to claim as his own.
Three years earlier, the news of Yasmine's marriage had forced him to quell his secret longing for her. He wished her nothing but happiness from afar.
But what had she endured in those three years?
The once radiant beauty now lay pale and marked by her ordeal on the bed.
With a barely contained fury, Xavier caressed her cheek. His gaze was deep with intent, on the brink of madness.
Resolved, he vowed to reclaim her.
Hayden Yancey.
That man, along with the Yancey family it belonged to, would be ground to dust.
The Hendersons' fate was sealed, and their journey to oblivion was assured not to be a solitary one.
Knock, knock.
The sound of the maid tapping at the door sliced through the quiet.
"Sir, here's the hot cream soup you requested."
The rich aroma of the soup gently roused Yasmine from her slumber. She slowly opened her eyes.
The room's brightness hit her suddenly, making her instinctively lift her arm to shield her eyes, and then she realized she was completely nude.
"Ah!"
She quickly wrapped herself in the blankets, sitting up abruptly. Her gaze flitted around the room until it landed on a painting across from her.
The painting showcased a cheetah. It was so vivid that it seemed on the brink of leaping off the canvas to claim her throat.
She was transfixed and held her breath at the sight.
"Did that scare you?" The man's voice echoed in the room.
Yasmine looked up to meet Xavier's deep, intense gaze.
His green eyes echoed the predatory look of the cheetah in the artwork, emanating a powerful sense of dominance. His presence, both in the painting and in reality, overwhelmed her, making her feel utterly exposed.
How could it be him?
Yasmine recognized Xavier as a distant relative by marriage, technically her uncle-in-law, through ties between the Quinlan and Yancey families.
"Uh..." She hesitated over what to call him. "Mr. Quinlan, where am I?" She tugged the blanket up for modesty.
"You're in my place. I saved you," Xavier said.
A hint of amusement flickered as he responded to her formal address. He turned to get the soup from the table.
"Have some of this. It'll warm you up."
Yasmine didn't reach for the soup. Her face turned a deeper shade of red as she looked away, embarrassed.
Her rescuer had not only undressed her but was now parading half-naked before her, displaying a chiseled torso and powerful legs.
Despite the towel, the evident bulge suggested a man of considerable physical prowess.
"Thanks for saving me. I'll make it up to you somehow. But... could you please put on some clothes first?"
Her blushing made Xavier chuckle softly as he grabbed a bathrobe from a chair and slipped it on.
"I treated your wounds. How do they feel?" he inquired.
"They're... okay," Yasmine managed to reply.
But... It hit her that it was Xavier who had applied the medicine, not a doctor. Had he seen her entire body?
- Writer
