The silence in the library felt oppressive, pressing against my chest as I stared at the papers spread across the desk. Each page was a piece of a puzzle I wasn't sure I wanted to solve.
Lucas's cryptic warning had been echoing in my mind all night: How much are you willing to risk? It felt like a threat wrapped in silk, a game I wasn't prepared to play but couldn't escape.
I ran my fingers over the edge of an old ledger, the leather worn and cracked with time. My father's name was scribbled in bold letters at the top of the page, but it was the list of transactions beneath it that chilled me.
"Imports," I whispered aloud, though the word felt wrong in my mouth. That was the official term, but the notes in the margins hinted at something darker.
"You're not supposed to be here."
I jumped, nearly knocking the papers off the desk. Miles leaned in the doorway, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.
"You scared me," I snapped, trying to mask my nerves.
"You shouldn't be digging into this," he said, stepping closer. His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it, like a blade hidden beneath velvet.
"Why not?" I asked, meeting his gaze. "You've been keeping secrets, Miles. If you won't tell me the truth, I'll find it myself."
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Riley, this isn't something you can just uncover and walk away from."
"Then explain it to me," I said, my voice rising. "Explain why Lucas is involved, why Vivian is terrified, and why my father's name is all over these—" I gestured to the damning papers. "Just tell me."
Miles hesitated, his jaw tightening as if warring with himself.
"You wouldn't understand," he finally said, his voice low.
"Try me," I shot back, taking a step toward him.
His eyes burned with a mix of frustration and something else I couldn't place. "You think I'm keeping things from you to hurt you? I'm trying to protect you, Riley."
"Protect me from what? From my own family?"
"From the fallout," he said sharply. "From everything that will happen if you keep pulling at threads you don't understand."
I wanted to scream, to throw something, but his words hit a nerve. I didn't want to believe he was right, but the fear in his voice made my resolve falter.
"I don't need your protection, Miles," I said, though my voice wavered.
His gaze softened, and for a moment, the tension between us shifted. He stepped closer, so close I could feel the heat radiating from him.
"You might not need it," he said quietly. "But you have it anyway."
The space between us felt electric, charged with a thousand unsaid things. His eyes searched mine, and I could see the war inside him. He lifted a hand, as if to touch my face, but hesitated.
I didn't move, didn't breathe, caught in the pull of him. The room seemed to shrink, the world outside fading into nothing.
Then, a sharp crash shattered the moment.
We both turned toward the sound, hearts racing. Glass. Somewhere in the house, something had broken.
Miles's expression hardened instantly, his protective instincts kicking in.
"Stay here," he said, his voice firm.
"Like hell I will," I shot back, already moving toward the door.
"Riley—"
But I was already out of the room, the sound of his footsteps close behind me.
The hallway was dark, the air heavy with an unfamiliar tension. My heart pounded in my chest as I strained to hear anything over the sound of my own breathing.
We rounded the corner to the living room, where shards of glass glinted on the floor like scattered stars. The window was shattered, the night air pouring in through the jagged edges.
"Someone was here," Miles said, his voice low but filled with certainty.
"Who?" I whispered, my stomach knotting.
Before he could answer, the faint sound of footsteps echoed from somewhere upstairs.
Miles looked at me, his jaw set. "Stay behind me."
This time, I didn't argue.