Chapter 35
HARPER
Imust have finally fallen asleep because I woke to sunlight streaming through the hospital window and Dr. Nysor doing morning rounds like this was just another Tuesday.
“Good morning,” she said cheerfully, too loudly for someone who'd been through what I had. “How are you feeling? Any cramping? Bleeding? Dizziness?”
I took inventory, cataloging the damage. Everything still hurt, my shoulder especially, and my head throbbed with a dull ache that promised to become a migraine if I wasn't careful. But nothing felt worse than yesterday.
Small victories.
“No cramping or bleeding. Just sore everywhere.”
“Good. That's very good.” Dr. Nysor checked my vitals, examined the laceration on my throat that had been cleaned and bandaged last night.
Her fingers were gentle but I still flinched.
“Everything looks excellent, all things considered.
I'm comfortable releasing you this morning with strict instructions for rest and follow-up.”
Connor had already woken and moved back to his chair at some point while I was sleeping. Now he leaned forward, his expression intense in a way that said he was about to interrogate someone. “What kind of follow-up?”
“I want to see Harper again in one week to check the baby,” Dr. Nysor said. “Then we'll resume a normal prenatal care schedule. But Connor,” she looked at him seriously. “Harper needs to rest. No stress, no physical exertion beyond light walking. Her body has been through significant trauma.”
“She'll rest.” Connor's voice held absolute certainty. “I'll make sure of it.”
Two hours later, after discharge paperwork and getting prescriptions for pain medication that was safe during pregnancy, Connor was helping me into his truck in the hospital parking lot.
The morning sun was warm on my face, the air smelled fresh and clean, and I'd never been so grateful to be leaving a building in my life.
The drive back to the ranch felt both too long and too short. Every time we passed a car, I tensed, my heart rate spiking as I wondered if it was them. If Morgan, Silas or Armand had circled back, were lying in wait, ready to finish what they'd started.
Of course, Connor had noticed. His hand found mine and squeezed gently. “They're not here. Harper, half the county is looking for them. They're not stupid enough to come back to the one place everyone knows to look for them.”
“But what if—”
“What if they do? Then they'll have to go through me, Jaxon, Felix, Mark, Jim, Marcus, Denny, and every deputy Davies has assigned to patrol our property. They won't get near you. I promise.” I wanted to trust in his protection, in the security measures being put in place.
Except I'd trusted in security before, and they had gotten to me anyway. Had grabbed me from my own home in broad daylight.
Safe is a lie. Safe is just the time between attacks.
The ranch came into view with its familiar gate, familiar barn, familiar house that was supposed to be safe but no longer felt that way.
Felix's motorcycle was parked near the barn, and I could see Denny working with one of the horses in the outdoor arena.
Everything looked so completely normal, like yesterday hadn't happened at all.
Connor parked and came around to help me out, his hands careful on my bruised body like I was made of glass.
“What about Chester?” I asked, suddenly realizing I hadn't asked about him, and the panic that spiked was immediate and visceral.
“Chester's at the vet,” Connor said gently, his hands steadying me. “They want to keep him a few more days to make sure the leg is healing properly and monitor for internal injuries. But Doc Carter says he'll make a full recovery. We can visit him tomorrow if you're feeling up to it.”
Relief flooded through me so intensely my knees went weak. “He's really going to be okay?”
“He's going to be fine. A broken leg and some bruised ribs, but nothing that won't heal.” Connor's jaw tightened in that way that meant he was controlling his rage with effort. “He tried to protect you, Harper. Fought them even though they were kicking him. He's a good dog.”
“The best dog,” I agreed, my eyes burning with tears I was too tired to hold back. “I heard him yelping and I couldn't help him.”
“Hey, stop. Chester is fine. You're fine. Everyone made it out alive.” Connor pulled me against his chest gently. “That's what matters.”
He guided me inside, and the house smelled like coffee and something baking. Anna had clearly been here, because Connor didn't bake. The kitchen was spotless, the living room was straightened, and fresh flowers were on the table in a vase I didn't recognize.
But I couldn't focus on any of that. I could only focus on the back hallway where the door still stood, now with a new lock installed and what looked like a security bar across it.
“I had Felix change all the locks this morning,” Connor said, following my gaze. “And install security bars on both doors. Monday, I have a new camera system with motion sensors and the works coming. No one's getting in here again without us knowing.”
I nodded numbly, knowing the locks and cameras wouldn't stop the nightmares or stop me from reliving yesterday every time I closed my eyes. There was nothing they could do to stop me from seeing Morgan's face or feeling that knife against my throat.
Connor settled me on the couch with pillows and blankets and strict instructions not to move. Then he disappeared into the kitchen, and I heard the sounds of him making tea, pulling something from the oven that smelled like Anna's famous banana bread.
I should have been hungry after not having food since breakfast yesterday. No matter how hard the hospital tried to feed me, I couldn’t stomach it. My stomach was a tight knot of anxiety that wouldn't unclench, and it made the thought of food almost nauseating.
A knock on the door made me jump, my heart rate spiked so fast I felt dizzy.
“It's just Emma,” Connor called from the kitchen. “Harper, it's okay. It's just Emma.”
He let her in, and Emma appeared in the living room doorway looking pale, terrified and like she'd been crying. She held a bouquet of wildflowers, clearly picked from somewhere on the property rather than bought, and twisted the stems nervously in her hands like she was trying to strangle them.
“Harper.” Her voice was small, broken. “I'm so sorry. I should have known. If I'd just—”
“Emma, stop.” I patted the couch beside me. “Come here. Sit.”
She crossed the room hesitantly and perched on the edge of the cushion like she might need to run at any moment. Up close, I could see she'd been crying, her eyes were red and swollen, her face blotchy.
“This isn't your fault,” I said firmly. “Emma, you escaped a nightmare and you warned us about Morgan. You gave Davies information that led them right to that house. You saved me. Do you understand? You saved my life.”
“But they took you anyway. They hurt you.” She stopped, fresh tears spilling over. “I know what they're capable of. I know what Silas does to people. And because of me you almost—”
“Not because of you. Because of them. Because Morgan was unstable and made terrible choices that had nothing to do with you.” I reached for her hand. “None of that is on you.”
Emma looked at me with those haunted eyes that had seen too much, that would probably never be completely free of what Silas had done to her. “Are you okay? The baby?”
“We're both okay. Bruised and sore, but okay.” I managed a weak smile. “Turns out babies are pretty well protected during the first trimester.”
“Thank God.” Emma sagged with relief, her whole body deflating. “When I heard what happened, when Davies told me Morgan had you…” She couldn't finish, her voice breaking.
I squeezed her hand. “Emma, you and I are both survivors. We both escaped people who wanted to hurt us. That makes us strong, not weak.”
“I don't feel strong.”
“Neither do I. But we're alive. That has to count for something.”
We sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, both of us processing trauma in our own ways, both of us probably seeing things when we closed our eyes that would haunt us for years. Then Emma asked quietly, “Have they found them yet? Morgan and the others?”
“Not yet. But Davies said it's only a matter of time.”
Emma's expression went distant, haunted. “Silas won't get caught easily. He's smart. Careful. Methodical. If he's still out there,” she stopped, shivering despite the warmth of the room. “I won't feel safe until I know he's in custody. Or dead. Preferably dead.”
“Emma—”
“I know how that sounds. But Harper, you don't know what he's capable of. What he's done. The women who—” Her voice broke completely. “I can't stop seeing their faces. Can't stop hearing their screams. And knowing he's still out there, probably already planning his next move.”
Connor appeared with tea and banana bread on a tray, interrupting Emma's spiral before it could pull her completely under. “Ladies. You both need to eat something.” Emma left shortly after, promising to check in tomorrow, leaving me and Connor alone in the quiet house.
The afternoon passed in a blur of resting, pain medication, and Connor hovering like I might disappear if he looked away for five seconds. I dozed on and off, exhaustion finally winning over anxiety, though my dreams were filled with what ifs.
When I woke, the sun was setting, painting the living room in shades of gold and pink that were almost too beautiful for how I felt. Connor sat in the chair across from me, but he wasn't watching TV or reading. He wasn’t doing anything except staring at me with an expression I couldn't quite read.
“Connor?” My voice was rough from sleep. “What's wrong?”
“Nothing's wrong.” He stood, crossed to the couch, and knelt beside it so we were eye level. “Harper, I need to ask you something.”
“Okay.” My heart rate kicked up slightly, anxiety spiking. “What?”