Chapter 21
Harmony
Rain misted the windshield as we drove toward downtown, the wipers pushing aside streaks of gray that blurred Main Street into a wash of brick and glass.
Festival banners hung limp between the lampposts, their bright colors dulled by the weather.
The street should’ve been busy at this hour.
Instead, it felt hollowed out, too quiet, like the town was holding its breath.
Eric pulled up in front of the bakery and cut the engine. The sudden silence made my pulse spike.
“Wait here,” he said, already reaching for the door. “I’ll check the locks.”
“I can help,” I started.
He looked at me then, rain-dark hair plastered to his forehead, jaw set. “Harmony.”
That tone wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be. It was the same one he used on fire calls, the one that said this isn’t a discussion.
“Okay,” I said, though every instinct I had bristled.
He jogged through the drizzle and disappeared inside the bakery, the bell jangling once before the door shut behind him.
I stayed in the truck for all of ten seconds.
The street felt wrong. Not empty just watched.
My gaze drifted to the floral shop across the road.
Petals and Pines looked dark, the shop lights off, the upstairs windows shadowed.
Then I saw it, a curtain upstairs shifted, just barely, like someone had stepped back from the glass.
My stomach dropped. Stay put, I told myself.
I didn’t listen. I never did. I was trained to not shy away from danger, and that instinct was something I still hadn’t tamed.
The floral shop door opened with a soft click, no resistance at all.
That alone sent a chill through me. Sandy never left it unlocked.
“Sandy?” I called, my voice echoing too loudly in the quiet shop.
Quiet.
The air smelled faintly of damp greenery and overturned soil.
One of the display buckets had tipped near the counter, water pooling on the tile.
My heart hammered as I stepped farther inside.
Then something moved. A hand clamped around my arm, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise.
The smell hit me first, leather, smoke, and something bitter underneath.
“Well, well,” a voice sneered close to my ear. “Look who crawled home.”
“Olivier, are you insane?” I snapped at my brother.
“As if you’re one to talk,” he retorted.
I twisted, but he shoved me back against the wall before I could pull free. Pain flared through my shoulder, sharp and immediate, stealing the breath from my lungs.
“You should’ve stayed gone,” he hissed. His eyes were wild, sunken, familiar in the worst way. “This town doesn’t forget what you did to our father.”
“Marcel did that to himself,” I shot back, even as fear clawed up my spine.
His jaw twitched. “Watch your mouth.”
He grabbed my chin, forcing my head up until I had no choice but to meet his gaze. His grip was punishing.
“Still think you’re better than us?” he said. “You think flipping on him made you clean?” His lips curled. “You’re just a pawn who forgot who pulls the strings.”
The room spun. My shoulder throbbed where he’d shoved me, heat and ache radiating down my arm.
Then—
“Get your hands off her,” Eric’s voice cut through the shop like a blade.
Olivier barely had time to turn before Eric’s fist connected with his jaw.
The sound cracked loud in the enclosed space.
Olivier staggered back into a display table, glass shattering as flower vases crashed to the floor.
Eric didn’t hesitate. He grabbed Olivier by the collar and slammed him onto the counter hard enough the wood groaned.
“You touch her again,” Eric growled, voice low and lethal, “and you’ll regret it.”
Olivier spat blood onto the tile and laughed, broken and ugly. “You think you can protect her?” he rasped. “You have no idea what you’re stepping into, Thorne.”
Eric leaned in, forearm pressing into Olivier’s throat. “Try me,” he said calmly. “Because she is not alone. Not anymore.”
Movement flickered in the doorway.
Nico.
He stepped inside like he owned the place, rain dripping from his jacket, expression unreadable. He grabbed Olivier’s arm.
“Enough,” Nico said quietly. “You’ve made your point.”
Olivier shoved him off. “This isn’t over.”
Nico held his gaze for a long second, then looked at me. Something like pity crossed his face, quick and fleeting.
“You shouldn’t have come back, Harmony,” he said softly. “Not while he’s still breathing.”
Eric shifted, placing himself fully in front of me, broad shoulders blocking my view. “If you’ve got something to say,” he said evenly, “say it to me.”
Nico’s eyes hardened. “Then keep her close.”
He hauled Olivier backward toward the door. Rain and fog swallowed them as they disappeared into the street, their footsteps fading until only the drip of water and my ragged breathing remained.
Silence flooded the shop.
Eric turned to me instantly. “Are you hurt?”
“My shoulder,” I admitted, my voice shaking now the danger had passed.
He touched me gently, carefully, his thumb brushing my wrist as he checked my arm. “We’re leaving,” he said. “Now.”
Outside, the rain had shifted, thinning into something lighter.
As we stepped onto the sidewalk, the first flakes of snow drifted down softly, almost pretty.
Eric guided me toward the truck, his hand firm at my back, steadying me with every step.
Behind us, Main Street stood quiet again.
I knew the truth deep in my bones. My father’s shadow had found its way back to Val-Du-Lys. And this time, it was out for revenge.