Chapter 39
Harmony
By late afternoon, the snow had thickened into a soft white curtain that blurred the orchard rows and turned Maple Valley into something out of a postcard—quiet, delicate, and deceptively peaceful.
The kind of scene tourists would gush over.
The kind of stillness that made people lower their guard.
But beneath all the beauty, something inside me was too alert for peace.
Every sound felt muted and swallowed by the snow.
Even my own footsteps seemed quieter, like the world was trying to hide me or hide something from me.
Eric walked beside me along the back porch, his shoulder brushing mine every few steps.
A small touch that was barely noticeable but grounding and comforting.
And dangerous in a different way because it made me want things I was afraid to name.
Things that didn’t belong to a girl raised inside a criminal empire.
Things that didn’t survive the kind of secrets I carried.
“You’re quiet,” he murmured beside me.
I tucked my hands deeper into my pockets. “Just thinking.”
“That’s what scares me.” He nudged my arm gently, his voice soft, teasing in a way that carried truth under the humor. “Your thoughts run faster than mine do.”
I smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach my eyes.
My thoughts weren’t running they were constructing, analyzing, cutting through layers of possibility, the way Marcel trained me to do when danger lurked beneath the surface.
And the worst part? It felt natural. Too natural.
Like slipping into a language I hadn’t spoken in years, but never truly forgot.
Eric held the porch door open for me. The warmth from the kitchen brushed across my chilled skin as we stepped inside.
The air smelled faintly of coffee and pine cleaner, the scent of a house that belonged to people who had stability.
Safety. Lives that didn’t shatter under the weight of secrets.
Pierre sat at the table, reading glasses low on his nose as he sorted printed reports into stacks. He looked up when we entered, first at me then at Eric. Something unreadable flickered across his expression. Not suspicion. Not concern exactly. Something heavier. Something protective.
“Patrol shift changed early,” Pierre said gruffly. “The deputy covering the ridge tonight called in sick. I’ll be out again after dinner.”
Eric stiffened. “Dad, you’ve been out since before sunrise.”
Pierre gave a weary shrug; the kind of shrug men give when the weight of the world sits on their shoulders and they have no choice but to lift it anyway. “I’ll rest when I know what we’re dealing with.”
His gaze swept back to me, softer now. “You holding up, Harmony?”
I nodded once. “Trying.”
That answer seemed to sit heavy between the three of us. Trying. Not succeeding. Not failing. Just… trying. Pierre didn’t press. He had instincts sharper than most law enforcement officers in the region, but he also had empathy that didn’t need words.
He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “There’s talk in town again.”
The bottom of my stomach dipped. “About Marcel?”
“About the appeal,” he said. “People are anxious. Some are angry. Some are convinced he’ll get out.” His jaw tightened. “It’s stirring things up.”
Of course it was. Marcel Bellerose didn’t just cast a shadow. He cast a stain.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
Pierre’s head snapped up; eyes steely. “You don’t apologize for his choices. You hear me?”
My throat tightened. I nodded, but guilt still pooled behind my ribs like something thick and impossible to wash out. Then Pierre did something I didn’t expect. He put a hand on Eric’s shoulder, a firm, fatherly squeeze. “Stay close to her,” he murmured. “Trust your instincts.”
Eric nodded, jaw set.
Pierre turned to me. “And you… trust in him.”
My chest twisted painfully. Because I was about to exactly betray that trust.
Pierre left through the mudroom door. The click of it shutting echoed in the quiet kitchen.
Eric exhaled a long breath. “He means well.”
“I know.”
But Eric’s eyes were searching me. Gentle but unyielding. Hurt and hope mixed together in a way that made me feel exposed.
“Harmony,” he said softly, “if something feels off, I need you to tell me.”
My breath shuddered in my chest. I wanted to tell him everything.
That I had a plan forming like frost cracks spreading across ice.
That SableFox was pushing me into old patterns.
That the fear I felt wasn’t the same fear anymore, it wasn’t that I was prey, it was protective fear for him.
For all of the Thornes. But I couldn’t bring myself to say any of that. Not yet at least.
“I will,” I said quietly.
Not a lie. Not the whole truth.
Instead, I murmured something about needing to grab warmer clothes and went upstairs.
The moment the bedroom door closed behind me, the air felt colder.
The window was fogged from the heater, and when I wiped a small circle clear, snow kept spiraling past the glass in slow, hypnotic swirls.
The Thorne house felt warm. It was safe and loved, but danger followed me here anyway.
It was all my fault. My responsibility and my burden to fix.
I pressed my fingers along the dresser’s wooden edge until the sensation grounded me.
My thoughts sharpened like a blade being honed.
SableFox knew things no outsider should.
No stranger. Not even a distant associate of Marcel’s.
Which meant one thing, there was information somewhere physical, digital, hidden that someone was accessing.
Someone who knew where to look and that was Marcel’s office.
His encrypted drives. His old routers. His paranoia caused him to keep copies in places no police raid ever found.
Olivier knew some of the hiding spots. And once upon a time, so did I.
A memory hit me as the fourteen-year-old version of myself standing guard at the end of a hallway, pulse pounding, while Olivier shoved USB drives into the hollow behind a loose baseboard.
Olivier’s voice had been sharp that night, urgent. “Don’t tell Dad. Just keep watch for me.” I stood in the hallway, heart hammering, learning far too young how to guard secrets that weren’t mine.
I stumbled back from the dresser, heart pounding too hard.
If someone found those stashes…If someone knew how to access the drives…
If someone wanted leverage of any kind… Becket would never find it.
Not without knowing the exact spots Marcel trained us to use.
But I did. That knowledge felt like a curse in my bloodstream.
The floor creaked. I startled before Eric’s voice softened the moment.
“Hey,” he murmured from the doorway. “You disappeared.”
“Sorry,” I whispered. “Just needed a minute.”
He stepped closer, his gaze searching my face with slow, careful attention. The kind of attention that made me feel seen and wanted and terrified all at once.
“Your head’s spinning again,” he said gently.
I crossed my arms. “I’m okay.”
He brushed a strand of hair back behind my ear. It was such a simple touch but so tender, it nearly unraveled the shield I was trying to hold.
“You don’t have to pretend with me,” he whispered.
I looked up into his eyes, and for one split second, I almost said it.
I’m going to break into Marcel’s house tonight.
I’m doing it to protect you. I’m doing it because I love you.
But if I told him, he’d follow me into danger.
And I couldn’t let that happen. So instead, I reached for him.
My hands sliding up the front of his shirt, gripping lightly at the fabric.
His breath hitched. His body tensed, not with fear but with something deeper, more vulnerable.
“I’m trying,” I whispered, “to trust this. To trust you.”
His expression softened in a way that shook me. “You don’t have to try alone,” he murmured.
My eyes burned. “I know.”
He rested his forehead against mine, and the world fell quiet beneath that gentle pressure.
“We’ll figure this out,” he said. “Whatever’s coming.”
I nodded. Because he needed that reassurance.
Because he wanted to believe it. But inside, I already knew some storms you didn’t drag the people you loved into.
Some battles had to be fought alone. He kissed me softly, slow and warm, like he was giving me something to hold on to.
Something to come back to. And my resolve trembled for a moment but it wasn’t enough to stop me.
That evening, the Thorne house settled into its familiar nighttime rhythms. The sound of Asher grumbling about a teen at the community center.
The low murmur of Pierre calling to check on the windows.
The quiet clacking of Becket running encryption analysis he couldn’t break yet.
It looked like a normal family night from the outside.
But under all of it, inside my chest, everything coiled tighter.
My thoughts kept circling back to Marcel’s house.
To old secrets stirring. To SableFox’s voice calling me “little thistle,” like he could reach straight through the years and into the parts of me I didn’t show anyone.
I curled up on the couch with a blanket over my legs, pretending to read.
The words blurred on the page. Across the room, Eric watched me with tenderness so steady it made my throat tighten.
I forced a small smile. He smiled back, but his gaze was sharp, perceptive.
The way he looked at me told me he wasn’t fooled.
He could feel the shift in me. The storm gathering inside me.
He reached for my hand. I let him take it.
For the next few hours, I could give him honesty in the only way left to me, by loving him silently.
By memorizing his warmth. By holding on to this quiet, knowing tomorrow might break it.
“You okay?” he asked quietly.
I nodded. “Yeah.” I tried to hold my voice steady. The truth was, it wasn’t an entire lie. For the first time in days, a part of me felt strong and determined because I finally knew what I needed to do and I had a plan. I was taking control back of my life and that felt good.
Later, when Pierre was home and the house settled into sleep, I stood at the kitchen sink rinsing the last plate from dinner.
My reflection blurred in the darkened window.
I looked faint, even a little ghostlike.
Snow fell through the porch light like tiny sparks.
Behind me, Eric wrapped his arms around my waist, chin brushing my shoulder.
“You sure you’re not tired?” he murmured.
“Yeah,” I breathed.
“You want me to stay awake with you?”
His voice was so soft it nearly broke me. He didn’t know he was offering to walk into danger. To stay in harm’s shadow with me.
I turned and kissed his cheek. “No. Get some rest.”
His thumb brushed the side of my jaw, tender, aching. “You can wake me if you need anything.”
“I know.”
He kissed my temple and whispered, “Night, Sunshine.”
“Night,” I whispered back. I watched him climb the stairs. Every step he took made something twist painfully in my chest. Because I was going to break his trust tonight. Not because I didn’t love him, but because he was everything to me.
I settled into bed beside him. He was fast asleep and I allowed myself to close my eyes.
To feel the closeness and heat of his body but I was unable to settle and he felt it.
He woke briefly and I shut my eyes pretending to sleep.
He tried to soothe me but tonight I was beyond being able to relax.
All I could think about was the mansion house key I never should’ve kept.
When I left Marcel’s house that final night, I should’ve thrown the key into the river.
Instead, I put it in my pocket and pretended I forgot about it.
Then I slid out of bed putting my plan into effect.
The snow made everything too quiet. The kind of quiet where you couldn’t tell if you were alone or simply being followed by someone who moved better in the dark than you did. I stepped off the porch, the cold biting at my cheeks, and pulled my hood low.
As I walked down the dark path toward the ridge, one thought pulsed through me like a warning.
. . If SableFox wanted me to step into the dark alone, this was exactly how they’d want it.
Snow swallowed my footsteps as I kept walking.
Fear wasn’t new. It was an old friend following close behind.
Tonight, I followed it back. Toward the house where this nightmare began.
Toward answers I needed. Toward danger I could never escape.
But worst of all, toward the past I’d spent years trying to outrun.
Yet, in the dark of night, with no one aware of what I was doing, I went forward with my plan and didn’t look back.
Because some things you had to face alone.
And I had to protect the man I loved from my past.