The drive back had been silent, but her thoughts were anything but. Even now, standing in the familiar halls of the Volkov mansion, the weight of what she had just seen refused to loosen its grip on her mind.
Why is he doing this?
Xander had the evidence—clear, damning proof of what his parents had done. Years of corruption, manipulation, and bloodstained deals wrapped neatly in the files she'd found. Any man with a conscience would have taken it to the authorities, or at the very least, used it to sever ties with them. But Xander wasn't just any man. He was their son.
Was this all just a desperate attempt to shield them? To erase the trail before anyone else could follow it? If so… then the next step would be finding the eyewitness. Celeste Raven. She bit her lip, the irony bitter in her mouth. He didn't know it was her—not yet—but if he ever found out, would he destroy her too, just to keep their crimes buried?
Or was this the opposite? Was he preparing to burn them to the ground from within? Maybe he wasn't erasing the evidence… maybe he was collecting it. Building a case strong enough to strike when the time was right.
Her chest tightened. She wanted to believe that version. The one where he wasn't just another Volkov, bound by blood and blind loyalty. The one where he saw the truth, and acted not as their heir, but as their enemy.
But until she knew for sure, she couldn't decide if Xander Volkov was her greatest ally… or the most dangerous threat she'd ever face.
...
The night had settled deep over the estate, its silence broken only by the soft hum of the wind threading through the tall hedges outside. The lights in most of the house were dimmed, leaving the corridors steeped in long shadows that shifted gently when the breeze from the open windows reached them. Erin moved quietly, her slippers barely making a sound against the polished floor.
She had intended to head straight to her room after hovering in the hallway over an hour thinking about what just happened, but something in the air felt… unsettled. It wasn't fear, not quite, but an awareness — a prickling at the back of her neck, the sense that the night was watching her as much as she was moving through it.
She tightened her robe around her and glanced at the hallway ahead. The faint amber glow spilling from under the door to the study caught her attention. Xander was still awake, then.
For a moment, she considered turning away, pretending she hadn't noticed. But her steps took her closer anyway, the sound of faint movement within guiding her forward. She paused at the doorway and lightly tapped her knuckles against the frame.
Inside, Xander looked up from the papers spread across the table. He had shed his jacket, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, revealing forearms faintly dusted with chalk marks from the ledgers he'd been working through. There was a tension in his posture that didn't ease even when he met her gaze.
"You're still awake," she said quietly.
"I could say the same to you," he replied, voice low but not unfriendly. His eyes swept over her, briefly lingering on the faint creases in her robe. "Couldn't sleep?"
She shook her head. "Something about tonight feels… restless."
Xander's mouth curved faintly, though it wasn't a smile. "It's just the wind. This place gets noisier than you'd expect at night."
She stepped inside, her eyes falling to the documents in front of him. "Still working?"
"Trying to," he said, leaning back slightly in his chair. "There's too much to go through and not enough hours in the day."
The room smelled faintly of ink and the subtle, lingering warmth of the fire in the hearth. Erin moved closer, tracing the edge of the table with her fingertips. "You should take a break."
He tilted his head slightly, regarding her as though weighing whether to argue. "And do what instead?"
"Anything that doesn't involve you staring at numbers until your eyes burn," she answered, her tone dry but light enough to keep the moment from feeling sharp.
His gaze softened just enough to suggest he wasn't entirely immune to her suggestion. After a moment, he pushed the papers aside and reached for the teacup sitting at the edge of the table. It had gone cold.
"I'll make you another," she offered.
He didn't protest, simply watching as she took the cup and crossed to the small counter at the side of the room where a kettle rested. The quiet between them wasn't uncomfortable — just the soft crackle of the fire and the occasional sigh of the wind.
By the time she placed the steaming cup back in front of him, the shadows outside the window had shifted again, darker now. Xander noticed her glance toward it and said, "You really shouldn't wander alone at night."
Her brow lifted slightly. "Is that a warning or a rule?"
"Both," he said, meeting her eyes. His tone was steady, but there was something else behind it — something he didn't explain.
Erin didn't press. Instead, she simply said, "I'll head back to my room."
He nodded, and as she turned to leave, his voice stopped her at the doorway. "Goodnight, Erin."
She glanced over her shoulder. "Goodnight, Xander."
The soft click of the door followed her down the hall, and though she didn't look back, she could feel his gaze lingering until she was gone.