The morning sunlight seeped through the drawn curtains, golden and unassuming—so unlike the storm that brewed quietly within Erin.
She was sitting at the edge of her bed, her bare feet planted firmly on the cold floor, phone in hand. Her thumb hovered over the message that had come in just moments before, but her eyes hadn't moved from the screen.
"You're getting distracted. Stay focused. Don't make us act before you're ready."
It wasn't signed. It didn't need to be. The seal at the bottom of the encrypted message was enough—a crescent moon inked in violet flame.
The device trembled slightly in her grasp. Not because her hands were weak, but because the tightrope she had been walking—balanced between duty and something far too dangerous to name—was fraying beneath her feet.
She tossed the phone onto the bed like it had burned her and leaned forward, burying her face in her hands. Her breathing came slow, measured, but her heart was far from steady.
They were watching.
Of course they were.
They had likely seen her stare too long. Smile too easily. Hesitate too often.
Erin clenched her fists. She had told herself, again and again, that Xander was the son of the enemy. That he was born from bloodlines soaked in treachery. That he would never look at her the way she was starting to look at him—not really. He was arrogant, rude and a person who cared too little about what didn't concern him.
And yet…
He hadn't asked for any of this. That much, she now knew.
She remembered the conversation they had just last night, the vulnerability in his voice when he said he had no choice in his engagement to Lillianne. The weariness behind his eyes when he admitted he never doubted Erin—but had to keep quiet so her parents wouldn't have a reason to come knocking. He wasn't just some spoiled prince playing king in a business suit.
He was trapped, too.
And that changed everything.
Erin stood and crossed to the window, drawing the curtains open in one swift motion. Light flooded the room. But it didn't warm her.
They suspected her.
And if they decided she had grown weak, they would act. With or without her consent. With or without warning. And Xander would be their first target.
No.
She wouldn't let that happen.
The idea of protecting him hadn't occurred to her when she took the assignment. She hadn't planned on spending days cooking his food, arguing over bathroom rights, patching up his cuts in the kitchen, or feeling his breath against her skin when they'd accidentally ended up too close. She hadn't expected to learn that the boy behind the power and prestige was… a person. Flawed, sarcastic, infuriating, but decent. Honest in the moments it counted.
Erin let out a shaky breath, one hand gripping the edge of the windowsill.
Thirty days.
That was all she had left.
The idea was madness. To protect the son of the man who had led the massacre of her people. But Xander hadn't held a blade. He hadn't made the orders. He didn't even know what had been done in his name.
She wasn't ready to forgive.
But maybe she was ready to spare him.
Erin paced the room once, twice, before finally sitting down at her desk and pulling out a worn notebook. One she hadn't opened in years. The pages were filled with early reconnaissance—drawings, diagrams, layouts of the mansion, personnel schedules. All tools for her eventual betrayal.
But today, she turned to a blank page.
'Things he doesn't know,' she wrote at the top.
She began to list them out—simple things at first. That he's being watched and his every move is tracked. That his board meetings had been bugged twice without his knowledge. That the woman at the bar incident was her and even though nothing happened between them, the move was deliberate and planned to give his parents a reason to hire her to keep an eye on him. That she was supposed to ruin him.
But then she wrote a single sentence that made her chest tighten:
'He doesn't know that I don't want to ruin him anymore.'
Her fingers paused.
This wasn't love. It couldn't be. But it was something else. Empathy. Respect. And the barest beginning of trust.
She snapped the notebook closed, stuffed it into her bag, and stood. The message had warned her to stay on her heels. That they'd act without hesitation.
So she had to stay ahead of them.
There was still time.
Thirty days.
Thirty days to find a way to protect him without betraying them.
Thirty days to walk a line so thin, even the wind could break it.
She walked to the mirror, tied her hair up, and stared at her reflection for a long time. Her features were unreadable. Trained. Cold.
But behind her eyes, a storm was building.
Then came a knock on the door. Not a loud one. But deliberate. She crossed the room and opened it just a crack.No one was there. Only a folded note on the floor. She picked it up.
**"Tick tock. We see you."
Her blood ran cold.
But her jaw set with renewed determination.
"Then keep watching," she whispered. "You'll see exactly what I'm about to do."
And with that, she shut the door—and started planning.