Chapter 13
Remedy
By noon, Harbor House no longer looked frightened from the outside.
That was one of the building’s strangest gifts.
Even with brothers positioned near every entrance, curtains drawn across the rooms facing the woods, and Cipher moving between security monitors with the tense focus of a man who had already decided sleep was optional, the old farmhouse still managed to appear peaceful beneath the clearing sky.
Rainwater slipped from the porch roof in slow, steady drops, sunlight gradually broke through the clouds, and children’s laughter drifted from the activity room where Daisy had convinced everyone that indoor gardening counted if they planted herbs in painted clay pots.
Anyone passing on the road would have seen flower boxes, rocking chairs, and a white farmhouse surrounded by trees.
They would not have seen the loaded weapons beneath jackets, the additional cameras being mounted along the property line, or the way every patched brother looked toward the woods whenever a branch moved.
I stood in the clinic doorway watching Sunshine sit at the long table with Charlie, Lily, Nathan, and Emily, helping each child press tiny fingerprints into wet paint before adding faces to what Charlie had declared were “guardian ladybugs.” The project had apparently begun as flowerpots and evolved into an entire security force.
Charlie assigned each painted insect a responsibility with absolute confidence.
One watched the kitchen. Another protected the pancake mix.
Mr. Pickles had been promoted to commander and now sat in the center of the table wearing a paper badge taped crookedly to his chest.
Sunshine laughed when Charlie informed Nathan that blue ladybugs were better at nighttime patrols because they matched the moon.
The sound reached me from across the room, bright enough to loosen something inside my chest despite the tension I had carried since the trail cameras were discovered.
Less than three hours earlier, Sunshine had stood in the woods staring at a blurred photograph of a man who might have been connected to the compound she escaped.
Her hands had shaken, her breathing had shortened, and for a moment I had watched the past reach through years of distance and drag her halfway back into it.
Now she sat beside frightened children and helped them turn danger into something small enough to paint.
That was who she was.
She could be afraid and still make someone else feel safe.
I had known strong men who believed courage meant never allowing fear to touch them. Sunshine had taught me something better. Courage was letting fear arrive, naming it honestly, and refusing to let it decide what you did next.
Charlie looked up and spotted me near the doorway.
“Daddy!”
Every child at the table turned.
Sunshine’s eyes found mine last.
The memory of her hand slipping into mine in the rain returned with enough clarity that I almost forgot why I had come into the room.
She had reached first. That mattered more than I could explain.
Sunshine rarely touched anyone without careful intention, and even after two kisses, every small gesture felt like another piece of trust placed into my hands.
Charlie waved a paintbrush in the air.
“Come see.”
“I’m working.”
“You’re standing.”
“That’s still working.”
“No, it isn’t.”
Lily nodded seriously. “She’s right.”
Nathan looked apologetic but nodded too.
I crossed the room because apparently my authority ended whenever children reached a majority vote. Charlie immediately held up a clay pot covered in red, blue, and purple fingerprints, several of which had streaked into shapes that looked less like insects and more like small explosions.
“This is the family garden guard.”
I examined it carefully. “Impressive.”
“That one’s you.”
She pointed toward a dark blue smudge with too many legs.
“Why do I have nine arms?”
“You help everybody.”
“That’s fair.”
“This is me.”
A bright pink ladybug occupied nearly half the pot.
“I can tell.”
“And this is Sunshine.”
Her finger moved toward a yellow one painted directly beside mine.
The two shapes overlapped at the edges.
Sunshine lowered her gaze toward the pot, but not before I saw the emotion move across her face.
Charlie had been placing the three of us together for weeks—in drawings, at dinner tables, in games about dragons and royal bears—but the quiet certainty behind those choices felt different now.
Every time she did it, Sunshine and I were reminded that whatever we decided about one another would never remain between two adults.
I crouched beside Charlie.
“Where’s Mr. Pickles?”
She looked offended by the question.
“He’s commander.”
“Right. My mistake.”
“He doesn’t go on the pot. He watches it.”
Mr. Pickles stared at us from the center of the table with his paper badge and one bent ear.
“He looks qualified,” I said.
“He’s very serious.”
Sunshine’s smile touched the corners of her mouth. “He hasn’t moved from his post.”
“Dedicated.”
Charlie returned to painting, satisfied with my inspection.
I remained beside the table longer than necessary, watching her explain to Lily that every garden needed guardians because flowers could not run away if something scared them.
Lily accepted the logic without question and added another green fingerprint near the rim of her pot.
The words landed differently for the adults.
Sunshine’s hand stilled around her brush.
I kept my voice light. “Maybe flowers don’t need to run if enough people protect the garden.”
Charlie nodded. “That’s what I said.”
“It wasn’t exactly what you said.”
“It was close.”
Sunshine looked toward me, quiet understanding passing between us. She knew I was not talking about flowers. I wanted her to hear the promise without forcing it into words too large for the room.
She did not have to run.
Not from Harbor House.
Not from us.
The clinic phone vibrated against my hip before the moment could deepen. Cipher’s name appeared across the screen.
“I need to take this.”
Charlie barely looked up. “Tell Uncle Cipher ladybugs can help.”
“I’ll mention it.”
I stepped into the hallway before answering.
“What’ve you got?”
“Possible vehicle.”
My body tightened immediately.
“Where?”
“County road seven miles east. Private camera caught a dark SUV at one-forty-eight this morning, then again at two-twenty-six heading west.”
“Plate?”
“Obscured.”
“Deliberately?”
“Looks that way.”
I moved farther down the hall, lowering my voice as a volunteer passed carrying towels. “Can you track the route?”
“I’ve got Mace checking a gas station system and Autumn requesting footage from a traffic camera near the bridge. The SUV never passed the main road into town.”
“So they stayed on the back roads.”
“Or turned off before the bridge.”
“Any match to Order vehicles?”
“Nothing exact.”
That did not mean much. The Order had spent decades surviving by changing names, vehicles, and property records before anyone could connect them. Cipher had uncovered enough false companies and transferred titles to prove that hiding was not something they improvised. It was infrastructure.
“What about the man in the photograph?”
“I ran facial comparison against every image from Rebecca Hayes’s files.”
“And?”
“Low confidence match on one.”
My grip tightened around the phone. “Who?”
“Gideon Voss.”
The name brought Mace and Lilith immediately to mind.
Gideon had been the man intended for Clover Hale before she became Lilith Rowan and escaped the life the Order had planned for her.
He was controlling, well connected, and already tied to properties using the same religious language that appeared in the larger network.
“That doesn’t make sense,” I said. “Lilith would recognize him.”
“She did. Says it isn’t Gideon.”
“So who’s the match?”
“Could be a relative. Could be camera distortion. Could be nothing.”
Cipher rarely sounded frustrated. Now every word carried it.
“What does Sunshine remember?”
“Not enough yet.”
I glanced through the activity-room doorway. She sat where I had left her, helping Nathan clean yellow paint from his fingers while Charlie attempted to place a second badge on Mr. Pickles.
“I’m not pushing her.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
“I know.”
A pause stretched between us.
Cipher finally spoke again. “Toxic wants everyone at the clubhouse tonight. Residents stay here with a full security rotation. He wants Sunshine there for the briefing.”
My jaw tightened.
“She’s already had enough today.”
“She’s also the only person who might identify the man.”
“I said I’m not pushing her.”
“And I said nobody asked you to.”
I recognized the warning beneath his voice. I was moving from protecting Sunshine’s choices into deciding which choices she should be allowed to face, and that line mattered.
“I’ll ask,” I said.
“Good.”
“What time?”
“Seven.”
The call ended.
I remained in the hallway, staring through the window at rainwater dripping from the porch rail.
My first instinct was still to tell Sunshine there was a meeting and then give her every reason not to attend.
She had already relived enough of the Order for one day.
She deserved to sit with Charlie, paint ridiculous ladybugs, and allow the farmhouse to feel safe again.
But safety built on ignorance was not safety.
Sunshine had spent years having men decide what she could know, where she could go, and which dangers she was permitted to understand. Even if my intentions were different, taking the decision from her would repeat the same injury in gentler language.
I returned to the activity room.
Charlie had moved on from ladybugs to painting one of Remedy’s supposed nine arms with glitter. Sunshine looked up as I approached, and the ease in her expression faded slightly when she saw my face.
“What happened?”
I did not soften the truth enough to make it useless.