The silence in the car was oddly intimate.
They weren't speaking, but Erin could feel him. Xander sat on the other side of the sleek black interior, legs crossed, eyes lazily watching the passing buildings outside the tinted windows. City lights flickered through the glass like flashes of stars—cool and distant, nothing like the heat curling in her chest.
Her phone buzzed in her lap.
Erin looked down quickly, half-expecting it to be a reminder or a random app notification. But no—it was her.
Amara: We got it. All files secured. Tell me what to do next.
Erin's heart skipped.
It wasn't "we found it." It was we stole it. Because it wasn't theirs to take.
She swallowed, her fingers moving fast.
Erin: Don't text me again. It's risky. I'll reach out first.
Her thumb barely left the screen when Xander's voice cut through the quiet.
"Who are you texting?"
Erin startled slightly, glancing up to meet his gaze.
He wasn't even looking at her directly—his eyes were half-lidded, still focused on the window. But his tone wasn't casual. There was an edge to it.
She fumbled with the lock button. "No one important. Just a friend."
There was a pause. Too long
He finally turned his head to look at her. That same unreadable stare. Not cold, not curious—just… neutral.
Erin felt a strange pressure settle over her ribs.
And then, without warning, he sighed and reached across the car, pulling her gently into his side.
"Come here," he murmured.
She didn't resist. She didn't even think. Her body went with his motion as if it were second nature now, settling into the warm space between his arm and chest. His scent wrapped around her like a balm—clean, expensive, faintly woodsy.
Her head rested against his shoulder. Her fingers lay still in her lap. He didn't speak again.
But Erin's thoughts were anything but still.
Her guilt clamped down on her throat like a fist. This comfort, this warmth—this wasn't hers to enjoy. Not when she was the reason his world was already half-broken.
Would he still be like this with me if he knew?
The question echoed, sharp and inevitable.
She had asked herself that every night. And every time, her answer chipped away at her heart a little more.
No.
He wouldn't.
Not if he knew who she really was.
Not if he knew what she'd done.
Not if he knew the next step Talia was waiting to take.
But she didn't move away.
She wanted to hate herself for it—but she stayed right where she was, tucked into his side like she belonged there. Like she was someone worthy of this affection.
Xander's hand moved slightly, his fingers brushing up and down her arm in an absentminded rhythm.
Then, in a tone too casual to be careless, he asked, "Do you like galas?"
Erin blinked. "What?"
"Galas. Events. Parties. I figured you'd enjoy them. You clean up well."
She snorted softly. "That's not really a compliment."
"I mean it," he said, tilting his head to glance at her again. "You're stunning. I'd be worried if I weren't so charming."
She smiled despite herself, though it didn't quite reach her eyes.
"I don't hate galas," she said, picking at a loose thread on her gown. "But I'm not used to them either. I don't really belong in rooms like that."
Xander was quiet for a moment.
Then he said, "Rooms like that don't decide your worth. The people in them just like to pretending."
Erin looked up at him. "And what about you?"
"What about me?"
"When you're in those rooms like that, do you pretend too?"
Xander gave her a small, lopsided grin. "I've made a career out of pretending."
The words hit harder than he probably meant them to. Erin looked away.
"Sounds exhausting."
He didn't reply right away.
"It is," he said eventually. "But I guess the right company makes it bearable."
Her heart stumbled.
She didn't know what to say after that.
The silence returned, comfortable but bittersweet this time. The kind that made her want to stay tucked into his warmth forever—if only she weren't the person hiding knives behind her back.
The car turned a corner.
City lights danced over their faces.
And Erin wondered, for the hundredth time, if she'd survive what was coming next.