Chapter 148: The Grandmother Moves

The room was quiet, warm with the weight of sleep and the soft breath of the man curled beside him.

Trevor had stayed still for longer than usual, his hand resting loosely against Lucas's hip, his forehead tucked near the nape of his neck. It was tempting, too tempting, to let that softness lull him deeper. But instinct didn't sleep, not truly. Not when there were threats that hadn't yet been named.

Lucas shifted in his sleep, breath steady; this time there was no nightmare making him shiver in the night.

Trevor exhaled once, slowly, then slid his arm back with care. He peeled himself from the bed with the kind of silence that only came from practice, muscle memory, and war.

The floor was cold beneath his feet. He reached for his robe, the slate-gray one with the embroidered crest near the collar, and slipped it on in a single motion. The door clicked shut behind him a second later, soft as breath.

Windstone was waiting.