Chapter 31
Eric
Harmony lingered at the bottom of the stairs like she wasn’t sure her legs would keep holding her up.
The house was warm, the kind of warm most people found comforting, but today it was the kind that made the walls feel too close.
She rubbed her arms slowly, staring at the floor instead of the hallway where my dad and brothers waited.
I stepped behind her and slid my hands along her arms, letting my palms settle on her shoulders.
“Hey,” I murmured. “Breathe.”
She did, but it was shaky. “I’m okay,” she whispered.
“You don’t have to be,” I said quietly. “Not with me.”
She leaned back into me, just a little. Enough. “I thought after last night… after this morning… maybe things would settle.”
I pressed a slow kiss to the side of her head. “That photo wasn’t your fault. None of it is.”
“I know,” she said, but her voice said the opposite. “It’s just… he’s not stopping. Whoever it is.”
I slid one hand into hers. “You’re not facing him alone. Not anymore.”
She looked up then, eyes soft and scared and brave all at once. The look hit me hard. A twist low in my chest. A reminder of exactly why I couldn’t let anything happen to her. Down the hall, Dad’s voice carried. “Eric?”
“Coming,” I called back.
Harmony swallowed, then nodded, letting me guide her forward. When we reached the dining room doorway, she hesitated again.
“You ready?” I asked softly.
“No,” she said. “But let’s go.”
I squeezed her hand once before leading her inside.
The long farmhouse table was covered in files, printouts, a laptop showing camera feeds, and a map of Maple Valley with red markings on it.
Dad stood at the head of the table. Becket leaned over the map; jaw tight.
Asher sat on the edge of the counter, rolling the wrap around his knuckles tighter, like he’d come straight from a sparring session he didn’t want to talk about.
He had been a champion MMA fighter in high school and continued a short time after he graduated, but I didn’t know he was back at it now.
The air didn’t just feel tense. It felt like a storm waiting to break.
Harmony stayed close enough that her shoulder brushed mine when we sat.
Dad looked at her with an expression that held both authority and something gentler.
“We need to talk about what came through this morning, and about new developments with your father.”
Harmony’s body went still beside me. “My father?”
Becket opened the folder in front of him. “The appeal. There’s movement.”
Harmony inhaled sharply. I reached for her hand under the table.
Dad exhaled once, steady and controlled. “The court has moved Marcel’s appeal hearing forward. Significantly.”
Harmony blinked. “How far?”
“Three weeks,” Becket said. “Which is extremely unusual.”
Harmony’s breath caught. “Why would they move it that fast?”
Dad tapped the edge of a legal printout. “His attorney filed an expedited motion late last night. Someone with influence pushed it through.”
Her fingers tightened around mine. “Someone wants him out.”
“Or wants pressure on you,” Becket added.
I hated the way she shrank into herself at that. Hated she still believed she was the problem, not the target of someone else’s game.
Dad continued, “We believe whoever is watching you is connected to the appeal. Whether acting for Marcel or trying to bury what Harmony uncovered years ago.”
Harmony’s voice trembled. “I didn’t think anyone even knew what I did.”
“They shouldn’t,” Becket said. “But someone does.”
A beat of silence passed before I forced my voice steady. “All right. Then walk us through every possible player. Everyone who could benefit.”
Becket nodded, flipping open another file. “Let’s start with the closest circles.”
He pointed to the top of the page.
Vesper.
“Digital footprint matches the encrypted channels Harmony used against Marcel. Skilled enough to erase trail markers. Could be acting for hire.”
Harmony looked sick.
Becket pointed to the next name.
Olivier Bellerose.
Harmony’s jaw clenched. “He wouldn’t stalk me.”
“No,” Becket agreed. “He doesn’t have the discipline or technical knowledge. But he dropped off the radar the same night the orchard fence photo was taken.”
Dad added, “His last known location puts him near the old Trust warehouse.”
Harmony's eyes widened. “The Trust?”
“Which brings us to Tremblay,” Becket said.
Noah Tremblay.
Calm. Professional. Always present. Too present.
Harmony whispered, “He was at the community center last week. Talking to Mara. He said it was about ‘safety upgrades.’”
Dad’s expression hardened. “He oversees half the surveillance on Main Street. And the festival. I know he does tech work for the Trust, but I don’t know if his level is hacker material.”
“They said that about half of Marcel’s associates,” Harmony muttered.
Asher finally spoke from the counter, voice low. “Maybe that’s the point. Someone using people who look harmless.”
Harmony’s gaze flicked toward him surprised, but grateful. Then Becket pointed to another name.
Nico Mercier.
Harmony inhaled sharply.
“He arrived in Montreal yesterday. Staying a few blocks from the courthouse,” Becket said.
Harmony shook her head. “He’s impulsive, not calculating. He wouldn’t do this.”
“No,” I agreed. “But he might have information. Or be manipulated by someone who does.”
Dad folded his arms. “At this stage, we treat all four as possibilities. For different reasons.”
Harmony stared at the table, chest rising and falling too fast.
I leaned closer. “Hey. Look at me.”
She did. Barely.
“We’re going to figure this out,” I said quietly.
Her throat bobbed. Dad tapped the map again, listing rotation schedules and tightened routes for Harmony’s movements, but my attention stayed on her, on the way her fingers curled toward mine, the way she tried to stay small, even though she was doing everything not to. Becket drew a line across the map.
“We’ll stagger coverage. I’ll take mornings and camera analysis. Eric—afternoons.”
“Done,” I said immediately.
“Asher covers the community center,” Dad added.
Harmony turned her head slightly. “You’re working at the center now?”
Asher shrugged, rolling his shoulders like he was trying to make himself bigger and smaller at once. “Open gym starts at four. The older boys need sparring rounds. I’m just… helping out.”
Harmony’s brows lifted. “You’re coaching them?”
“Someone should.” He tugged the wrap tighter around his knuckles. “They listen. Most days.”
Dad gave him a look halfway between approval and concern. “You keep an eye out there. The parking lot angles are vulnerable.”
Asher nodded once. “Already saw that. I’ll watch the back entrance too.”
Harmony absorbed that quietly, a flicker of gratitude softening her expression for half a second.
Dad shifted the conversation. “Eric, you stay with her today. No exceptions.”
“Wasn’t planning any,” I said.
Harmony shot me a look like she wanted to argue, but the new photo sitting on the table cut her protest before it started.
Becket broke the silence first. “Whoever sent that image four hours ago knows this house. The angles. The blind spots.”
My stomach knotted. “They were outside before dawn.”
Dad’s jaw was stone. “This person is escalating. They’re circling closer.”
Harmony rubbed her palms together once, grounding herself. “So what next? What do we do now?”
“We lock things down,” Dad said. “But we don’t react blindly. Fear is what they want.”
Becket typed something on his laptop, frowning. “I can tell my contact to track the relay they used, but it’ll take hours. Maybe days.”
Harmony straightened suddenly. “I can track it.”
The whole room froze.
“What?” I breathed.
Her chin lifted a fraction. “It’s my channel. My old encryption. I know the signature. I know where it forks.”
“No,” I said, too fast. “Absolutely not. You’re not diving back into the shit that got you threatened as a teenager.”
She turned to me, eyes steady and certain. “Eric… I’m not helpless. I know this world. And if someone is weaponizing something I built, I have to look.”
Dad’s voice dropped into warning territory. “Harmony, this is dangerous. You don’t poke a snake when it’s already striking.”
“I won’t poke it. I’ll just trace it,” she said like it was no big deal.
Becket watched her like he was reassessing everything he knew about her. “You still have access to the back end of those channels?”
Harmony hesitated. “Yes.”
“Then you’re not doing it alone,” Becket said. “If you trace anything, I’m monitoring you from here.”
“No,” I said again, sharper. “You’re not tracing anything until we make sure you’re protected.”
Her eyes met mine and, for a second, she wasn’t scared. She looked like someone preparing for war, and maybe that’s because she had been raised in a war zone and came fully equipped for the task.
“I’m already being hunted,” she whispered, “sitting still won’t stop it.”
My chest pulled tight. “Sunshine…”
But before I could finish, her phone lit again on the table.
Another notification.
Another encrypted message.
Dad snatched it up fast and scanned the screen. His expression turned dark.
He set the phone down slowly so all of us could see.
One line:
Still choosing the wrong people to trust.
Some lessons never stick.
Harmony exhaled a broken sound that shredded me.
Dad didn’t hesitate. “Eric, take her upstairs. Now.”
I stood, pulling her gently to her feet. As I walked her out of the room, one truth sat heavy in my bones. Harmony thought she was about to step into her past. But the past wasn’t following her. It was already here.