The night air had cooled into a quiet hush, wrapping the city in a blanket of darkness and distant sirens. Streetlamps flickered as Erin walked slowly along the cracked sidewalk, her coat cinched tightly around her waist, her boots making soft, rhythmic taps against the concrete. The city had begun to fall asleep, but Erin's thoughts were anything but restful.
She was supposed to be at the mansion. She knew that. But the thought of walking into that room again and seeing him—Xander—so still, his skin pale from blood loss, his body cold and unmoving—was too much. She had lingered at a café until they closed, nursing the same cup of lukewarm coffee for hours. She'd stared at the table, then at the wall, then at the city through the window, her mind spiraling deeper into a storm she couldn't seem to quell.
She had changed.
And she hated it.
Her fingers curled tightly around the strap of her bag as she walked. She hated that she had cared. That she had panicked when she saw him bleeding. That she had screamed his name like it meant something to her. That she had knelt beside his broken body and trembled, genuinely afraid that he might die.
She had been sent here to spy on him, make him trust her, get something she could use to blackmail his parents into admitting that they had set her parents up and ruined their family in the process. Not to save him. And certainly not to weep for him.
Yet...
And yet she hadn't handed over the evidence. The one thing that could've ended this all and clear her family's name.
She could have. She should have. The documents she photographed would have been more than enough to ruin his parents. Her mission would be a success. She'd be one step closer to going home, to completing what she was meant to do. But instead, she had hesitated. She told Heather only a fragment of the truth, said she suspected embezzlement, but kept the photos to herself.
Why did she do that?
Erin gritted her teeth, forcing her pace to slow before she wore holes into her boots. "I'm being stupid and unreasonable," she whispered to herself. "This isn't like me."
Xander was the enemy. He was everything her people feared, everything her mother warned her about. He was arrogant. Cold. Cruel and Untouchable.
So why had she touched him at all?
By the time she reached the mansion gates, it was nearly midnight. The guards greeted her with polite nods, and she returned them with a vacant glance, too lost in thought to offer anything more. Her heart pounded a little faster the moment she stepped inside. The lights had been dimmed. Silence wrapped around the halls like mist. The staff had told her earlier that Xander was still unconscious. His condition hadn't changed.
But her breath caught the moment she entered his room.
He was sitting on the bed.
Not lying.
Sitting.
His back leaned against the headboard, the sheets lightly draped around his legs, his upper body bare and bandaged, but upright and alert. His gaze lifted the moment she stepped through the door.
Erin froze.
For a second, she thought she was dreaming. That maybe the stress had finally snapped her grip on reality. But no, he was real. His eyes, sharp and steady, flicked up to meet hers.
She inhaled sharply, but didn't let it show. Not fully. Instead, she let the door close gently behind her and folded her arms. A smirk curled onto her lips, one she didn't entirely feel, but wore like armor.
"Well," she said coolly, tilting her head, "you recover fast."
Xander narrowed his eyes.
"You're not surprised," he said slowly, suspiciously.
"Oh, maybe I am surprised you stayed up late," she said with a slight shrug. "But certainly not surprised you are doing well. The staff told me you were still unconscious. Let's just say they weren't convincing."
"I told them to."
"I know."
He blinked. "You... know?"
She walked forward slowly, deliberately. "Let me guess. You wanted to catch me off guard. Make it look like I was slacking off. Give yourself something to report to your lovely parents. Something like, 'Oh, your maid wasn't around when I was injured. She abandoned her post.'"
She leaned a little closer, eyes gleaming. "But what do you think they'd say when they hear you snuck out last night and got yourself shot?"
His jaw clenched. Just a little.
Erin's smile widened. "I might not know what that shady little meeting was about," She halted and said in her mind, 'Or why you were carrying documents that could ruin your whole family.' She brushed the thought off and said to him threateningly "But I know enough. Enough to make this... interesting."
Xander exhaled slowly. "So you're threatening me?"
"You were going to do the same."
They stared at each other. The silence between them thickened, stretched taut like a thread ready to snap.
And then, Xander let out a breath. "Fine."
"Fine?"
"If you don't tell my parents what happened last night," he said, rubbing the bridge of his nose, "I won't tell them you abandoned your post."
"Mutually assured destruction. How poetic."
He gave her a look, unimpressed. "Don't get cute."
Erin turned toward the door, hiding the subtle relief that washed over her shoulders. "Too late."
She paused just before leaving and glanced back at him. He looked exhausted. Weakened. Vulnerable, even if only slightly. Yet he still sat upright with his pride firmly in place.
They were both holding secrets. Both armed with truths that could ruin the other.
But for now, they had a truce.
And for now... that was enough.