Page 21

EVE

Why am I so nervous? It’s not like he’s coming here to interrogate me… right?

I caught my reflection in the glass of the front door, smoothing down my turtleneck for what had to be the hundredth time. I didn’t know why I’d agonized over what to wear—most of my wardrobe was second-hand finds, thrift store bargains that rarely matched or fit perfectly.

And even if I did have anything better, why did it matter? It’s not like I was trying to impress anyone.

I wrung my hands to stop their shaking, wiping my sweaty palms against my jeans. The sound of tires pulled me from my spiraling thoughts.

By the time I grabbed my things and stepped outside, Xander had already parked his SUV behind my own and was making his way toward the passenger side.

“Good morning,” he said with a small smile that did little to settle my nerves.

I jogged over to meet him, shivering against the chill in the air.

It was impossible not to notice how much he stood out here.

His light hair hung loose around his face, catching the morning sun in a way that softened his otherwise sharp features.

He was wearing another cable-knit sweater today, a charcoal gray that fit snugly over his lean frame, paired with jeans that somehow managed to look both casual and expensive.

Despite thinking about Xander’s arrival nonstop, I don’t know what I expected—Ragnar’s scowling hostility?

Orion’s infuriating charm?—but this? This seemed…

overly polite. Excessive, even. Was he trying to soften me up so he could play the bad cop later?

“I hope you don’t mind the change in company today.”

“Not at all,” I said quickly, shaking the daze from my head as I climbed into the car.

The inside was warm, the heat cranked high enough to make the enclosed space feel cozy despite the icy air outside. Was this part of his plan to get me to lower my walls before he dealt the deadly blow?

Stop it, Eve. Just stop.

“I wanted to apologize,” he said after we’d set off. He kept his gaze on the road as he spoke, his voice measured and slow. “For your home. Orion and I went to deal with it this morning. I’m afraid there wasn’t much to save.”

The lump in my throat rose before I could stop it, but I swallowed it down quickly.

“Oh.”

What else could I say? That I didn’t care as much as I should? That I’d already said goodbye to that house long ago?

We reached the cabin in record time with silence as our companion, heading inside without another word.

I’d been too distracted last night to take in the finer details—the half-collapsed pyramid of cards that sat precariously on the coffee table, the stack of books by the fireplace, and muddy boots piled haphazardly by the door.

It wasn’t cluttered by any means, but it was…

homey—the interior felt relaxing, unlike my rundown bungalow.

Xander didn’t stop, heading straight toward the kitchen. A wide stainless steel cooker took up most of one wall, its five burners gleaming like they’d been freshly scrubbed. The counter tops were a dark, polished granite, and a farmhouse sink sat under the window.

I stopped short, my eyes sweeping over the space with the kind of appreciation only a chef could muster. It wasn’t just functional—it was a dream kitchen, the kind of space I could spend hours in without realizing where the time had gone.

Aside from the scorch marks and the empty space to the right…

“Are you hungry?” Xander asked, standing in front of the open fridge.

“Uh… yeah, I guess,” I said, stepping farther into the kitchen.

“Good,” he rolled up his sleeves, exposing forearms that probably deserved their own fan club. “Take a seat.”

I hesitated, not used to being told to sit while someone else handled things. But I slid onto a stool at the island anyway, my brows knitting as I watched him move.

It didn’t take long to figure out he was making pancakes, and it took even less time to notice just how uncomfortable he looked in the kitchen. I sat quietly, torn between appreciating the rare moment of peace and wanting to take over.

“You’re holding the whisk wrong,” I finally said, unable to resist after a few seconds of watching Xander mix the batter.

Xander paused mid-whisk, then turned to me with one brow raised and a skeptical look on his face. “Am I?”

“Not if you’re trying to beat the life out of it, I guess,” I mumbled, crossing my arms. His lips quirked into the faintest smirk before he turned back to the batter and whisked with noticeably less vigor.

“So,” he started, laying bacon strips onto a grill with careful precision before placing them under the broiler, “have you always lived in Alton Creek?”

I tensed. Here came the interrogation.

“Yeah, pretty much,” I said, keeping my tone light. What else was there to say? My life was small-town-boring, and this past week was the first time anything had happened that wasn’t painfully predictable.

“Last night must’ve been a shock.”

I shrugged, keeping my tone casual. “You could say that.”

Xander turned, fixing me with those impossibly sharp blue eyes. His gaze had a way of seeing right through me. I looked away, suddenly finding the grain of the counter top fascinating.

“Eve, you don’t have to pretend this is fine. It’s okay to feel like the ground’s been ripped out from under you. No one expects you to have it all figured out right now.”

“I don’t know you, Xander. I’m not going to spill my life’s story to you just because you asked nicely.”

He tilted his head, considering me for a moment, then nodded as though coming to some internal decision. “Fair enough,” he said, returning to the stove. “We need to change that.”

My stomach did a weird little flip. “Change what?”

“Your comfort level with us. We need to find a way to trust each other.”

He flipped the pancakes and grabbed a dish towel, wiping his hands as he turned back to me.

“That’s not how trust works,” I said, trying to brush off the nerves clawing their way up my throat.

“You’re right. Trust takes time. But it starts with honesty,” Xander leaned against the counter, folding his arms in a way that felt both deliberate and unyielding, as if daring me to challenge him.

“I’ll make you a deal. You can ask me anything and I’ll answer.

In return, I’d like you to try opening up.

No pressure, no judgment. Just honesty on both sides. Sound fair?”

I stared at him, my mind spinning as his words settled like stones in my chest. It was maddening how he could make something so terrifying, so personal, sound straightforward.

“I’ll try.”

He nodded, satisfied, and turned back to the pancakes. “Would you like to go first, or shall I?”

“I’ll go,” I said quickly, before my nerves got the better of me. “How long have you known the others? Did you meet here on… Earth?”

Saying it aloud felt ridiculous, but I didn’t really know how to do… Well, whatever this conversation was.

Xander didn’t reply straight away, pouring batter into the pan and dripping some onto the griddle in the process.

“We’ve known each other most of our lives. We grew up together. Our parents were close, so the four of us… It was inevitable, really. We’re more like brothers now, despite some obvious differences.”

“Differences?” I raised a brow. “Hadn’t noticed.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. He didn’t let the smile linger, though, and returned his attention to the sizzling pan.

“Your turn,” he said, his voice as steady as ever. “What was your plan? When you arrived at the house, what did you expect to find?”

“Uh, honestly? I hadn’t thought that far ahead,” I fiddled with the edge of my sleeve. “When that psychic told me to go home, I thought it was vague, useless advice. You know, the kind of thing you’d expect from a bad TV show. I had no idea it would… lead to all this.”

Xander didn’t push, didn’t rush to fill the silence. He just waited, his calm gaze fixed on the batter in the pan.

“It’s like…” I hesitated, unsure if I wanted to say it out loud. “It’s like a pull I can’t shake. I don’t know if I believe in fate, but maybe… this is what people mean by it.”

“You believe there’s a reason you’re here?”

“Yeah,” I admitted softly. “Maybe. But I don’t know what it is yet.”

He didn’t comment on that, but I could tell he was turning my words over in his mind as he flipped the pancakes with a little too much zest, kicking some of the butter up the back splash and onto his shirt. It was almost sloppy enough to get out of my seat.

“What about you?” I asked, eager to steer the conversation away from myself. “Orion said you guys hunt daema, but is that all you do? Is that why you’re here?”

“The answer to that is complicated. Right now, hunting the daema is our focus, but that wasn’t always the case.

Orion and Ragnar have always carried most of the responsibility back on Titan.

I, on the other hand…” He glanced at the stack of books I’d noticed earlier, his lips quirking slightly.

“Let’s just say I’ve always been more of a fan of research. ”

“Ah, so the textbooks in the living room are yours?”

He gave a small shrug. “As for why we’re here… That’s even more complicated. When we crossed into this realm from Titan, the Divide sealed itself behind us. None of us have been able to return.”

“Sealed?”

Xander nodded. “The Divide is… unknown. It’s not a place like Earth or Titan; it’s a void, a space that exists outside of time and matter.

For centuries, our ancestors used magic to create a stable passage between worlds.

But that passage—our gates—closed the day we crossed. It left us stranded here.”

I tried to imagine it—a door slamming shut between two worlds, locking them out of everything they’d ever known. It felt like a loss too big to comprehend.

“Can you tell me more about what happened at your mother’s house?”

“You mean the demon?” I hedged, my pulse quickening.

“If you’re comfortable,” he said, his tone soft but direct.