Chapter 49
Eric
Harmony slept for maybe ten minutes. Long enough for her breathing to soften, long enough for her head to curve into my shoulder, but not long enough for her body to trust the safety of the room around us.
I felt the moment the nightmares reached her.
The way her muscles tensed. The way her breath caught sharp in her throat.
The way she jerked awake like she’d been running.
I smoothed her hair back gently. “Hey. You’re okay. I’m right here.”
Her eyes blinked open wide, dazed and glassy from exhaustion. The sweatshirt I gave her hung off one shoulder, her damp hair spreading across the pillow.
Her gaze drifted toward the window. Snow still hammered the glass in rhythmic bursts, the kind of storm that made the entire world outside look erased. She curled closer to me unconsciously, like her body knew what she needed before her mind caught up.
“Sleep if you can,” I murmured, pulling the blanket higher. “You’re safe.”
But she shook her head. “I’m not closing my eyes again.”
Her voice cracked on the last word.
I kissed the top of her head. “Then I’m staying awake with you.”
Downstairs, the soft murmur of Dad and Becket’s voices carried faintly through the floorboards.
Harmony’s fingers curled into my shirt. “They’re working on the information from the relay scrap you found,” I whispered “You want me to check on them?”
She didn’t answer immediately. Then she nodded once, the smallest movement. “I’m coming with you. I don’t want to be alone.”
I slipped my hand into hers and guided her downstairs.
Dad looked up the second we reached the kitchen. “Did we wake you?” he asked.
“No,” Harmony said quietly. “I couldn’t sleep.”
Becket angled a chair for her before she even reached the table. She sat slowly, like her limbs still weren’t fully steady.
“What did you find?” I asked.
“You said that the scrap was dated six months pre-arrest and had the name Ravenhill written on it. You said that Ravenhill was your dad’s most cherished enforcer, but he died years ago,” Dad repeated, confirming the information Harmony had given him earlier.
Harmony’s throat bobbed as she nodded. “That was… when things in Montreal were at their worst, when the whole mess went down with Riley Jansen and those thugs he brought to Val-Du-Lys.”
Dad met her gaze with fatherly gravity. “That means this entry wasn’t made by Marcel. Federal agents had already frozen his credentials at that point.”
Harmony swallowed hard. “But how can it be Ravenhill?”
“He’s either not dead or someone else is using the alias,” Becket explained.
“I’ve heard the name before. My contact in the provincial organized-crime unit mentioned him once and the name has shown up in joint task-force chatter out of Montreal.
They’re basically Quebec’s version of a major crimes and organized-crime division, the people who work with federal agencies.
I worked with them during Marcel’s takedown,” Becket added.
“Once your father’s files hit their system, anything involving your name became shared intel. ”
Dad’s jaw tightened. “If Ravenhill accessed Marcel’s relay six months ago, he wasn’t tracking Marcel.”
Harmony’s breath caught. “He was tracking me.” Harmony went still beside me. Her shoulders were tight, her breath caught, like the truth landed harder than she expected.
“We’re one step closer to knowing who he is. And that means we’re one step closer to stopping him,” I said, trying to reassure her.
Heat crawled under my ribs, sharp and controlled. Whoever Ravenhill was, he’d been watching Harmony long before tonight, and I wasn’t letting him get close again.
A tear slid down her cheek. She didn’t try to hide it.
“I thought… maybe it was just the men chasing Riley,” she whispered. “Or some leftover threat from Marcel’s world. But this feels different. It feels personal.”
“It is,” Dad confirmed quietly. “Someone wanted you alive. Someone wanted control, not chaos.”
Harmony flinched like the words touched too deep. She pulled her hand from mine, only to wipe at her face quickly, then let me take it again after. Dad stood and placed a steady hand on her shoulder. “We’ll protect you, Harmony. This house, this family, we don’t lose our own. Not ever.”
Her breath trembled at the word family. Her gaze lifted to mine, something fragile and fierce all at once.
“I’m scared,” she said, and I knew how hard it was for her to admit those words out loud.
“I know,” I whispered. “That just means you’re human. But you’re still here. And I’m not letting anything touch you.”
Becket cleared his throat gently. “It’s late. You two should try to get some rest. Dad and I are doing shifts.”
Harmony hesitated. “He could be outside right now.”
Dad’s jaw was so taut I thought it might snap. “Let him try.”
I guided Harmony back upstairs. The storm still clawed at the windows, the house creaking softly under winter’s weight.
When we reached my room, she stopped in the doorway.
“Eric?”
“Yeah?”
“Will you stay awake with me?”
I brushed her cheek, letting my forehead rest against hers.
“I’m not closing my eyes until you’re safe.”
Her breath hitched this time, not from fear but something gentler.
She slipped into bed, and I settled beside her, keeping her tucked against me.
Her fingers curled into my shirt again, just like before.
Outside, the storm raged. Inside, she finally breathed.
And long after her eyes drifted closed, I kept watch, listening for footsteps, shadows, anything out of place.
Because Ravenhill was real. And he was close.
But so was I. And I wasn’t going to let her run anymore.