Chapter 50
Eric
Morning didn’t feel like morning. The storm had settled into a dull hush outside, snow still drifting from the roof like the world hadn’t decided yet whether it wanted to wake up.
The house was dim, quiet, too still for my liking.
Harmony sat at the kitchen table with both hands wrapped around a mug of tea she hadn’t taken a sip of.
Her eyes were open, but she looked like she was watching something no one else could see.
I set a plate of toast in front of her. “You need to eat something. You can’t run on empty.”
She blinked, like returning from far away. “I’m not hungry.”
“You don’t have to be.” I nudged the plate closer. “Just take a bite.”
She hesitated. Then took one, slow and small. It wasn’t enough. But it was something.
Dad and Becket came in from the back porch, brushing snow off their jackets. Both looked grim. Both looked like they hadn’t slept. Becket held his phone in one hand, jaw tight enough to crack.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
Becket rubbed a hand along the back of his neck. “Patrol went up the ridge. Found disrupted snow, a few places where someone doubled back. Nothing conclusive.”
“Footprints?” I asked.
“One set. Same size as last night.”
Harmony tensed.
Dad poured coffee for himself, but he didn’t drink it. “Whoever he is, he’s patient. He’s watching patterns.”
I stepped behind Harmony and rested my hand at the back of her shoulder. She leaned into it without thinking. “He won’t get near her.”
Dad didn’t argue. He just gave a tight nod and looked toward the window, as if expecting the man to appear out of the tree line.
Becket cleared his throat. “We also got something else. A ping from the provincial unit.”
Harmony stiffened again.
Becket pulled a folded sheet from his pocket that was creased and clearly handled more than once. He slid it across the table.
I frowned. “What is that?”
“A transcript,” Becket said. “A traffic cam request filed two days ago.”
Dad added, “Someone asked for access to surveillance in Maple Valley. Street cameras. Businesses. The request came through a masked node but it originated in a Montreal IP block associated with private enforcement contractors.”
Harmony’s breath stalled. “Like… Ravenhill.”
Becket didn’t say yes. He didn’t need to. The silence confirmed enough.
“But why would he need camera access?” I asked.
Harmony’s voice was barely audible. “To see where I go.”
My hand tightened on her shoulder.
Dad’s voice dropped low. “He could already be watching you in town.”
Harmony’s face paled. I crouched beside her chair before the fear could spiral. “You’re not going anywhere alone. Not even across the street.”
She nodded, but she looked sick.
Becket leaned on the counter; expression carved from stone. “We need to talk about misdirection.”
Harmony blinked at him. “What do you mean?”
“Last night…” Becket crossed his arms, gaze sharp. “He circled you. Tracked you from the mansion, but kept enough distance not to be seen. That isn’t the behavior of someone rushing to grab a target.”
Dad added, “It’s someone testing vulnerabilities.”
I hated how true that sounded.
Harmony whispered, “So last night wasn’t the attempt.”
I swallowed. “It was rehearsal.”
Her hands trembled around the mug.
I reached out, covering them with mine. “Not happening again. Not even close.”
Harmony’s breath hitched. I stood, moving in front of her without thinking. “You’re telling us the man from last night was already in town before the storm hit?”
“Yes.”
A soft knock broke through the tension in the room, three taps, hesitant but insistent.
Dad moved first, Becket right behind him.
I stayed close to Harmony.
When the door opened, Noah Tremblay stood on the porch, snow collecting in his hair, breath curling white in the cold. He didn’t look like a man stopping by casually. He looked… uneasy. Watchful.
Dad didn’t step aside. “This isn’t a good time, Noah.”
“I know,” Noah said quietly. His gaze flicked past Dad to Harmony. “But something came across my desk this morning. And it concerns her.”
Harmony stiffened beside me. My hand instinctively covered hers.
Dad’s voice hardened. “Say what you came to say.”
Noah swallowed and shifted his weight, jaw flexing. “There was an unauthorized access attempt on the Laurentian Community Trust servers. Someone masked their identity, but not perfectly.”
Becket straightened. “When?”
“Just after dawn.” Noah’s gaze swept the room cautiously. “Before the storm got bad.”
I felt Harmony go still next to me.
“Accessed what?” Becket asked.
“Internal rosters. Volunteer logs. Donation reports.” Noah’s voice dropped lower. “Files connected to Harmony’s name.”
Harmony flinched.
Noah continued, “The digital footprint routed through a Montreal-based cluster used by private enforcement contractors. Not government. Not police. Freelancers. People who don’t leave trails unless they want to.”
My jaw clenched. “So someone was looking for her.”
Noah nodded once. “Not casually. This wasn’t scraping data for identity theft or vandalism. It was targeted.”
Harmony whispered, “Why go through the Trust?”
Noah’s expression tightened, something like guilt or fear or both. “Because it’s the most recent organization you signed your name to. For someone searching your patterns, that’s a logical entry point.”
Harmony’s breath caught. “But this morning… already?”
Noah met her eyes. “Whoever it is, he’s close. That’s all I can confirm and this isn’t the first time we’ve had a breach. We started having them a couple of weeks ago. Maybe I should’ve said something sooner but I didn’t want to alarm anyone.”
A cold chill slid through the room.
Dad’s stare sharpened. “Can you trace him?”
Noah shook his head. “He’s good. Better than anything I’ve seen out here. Better than anyone who should be operating in a town this size.”
Harmony whispered, “Ravenhill…”
Noah blinked. “I don’t know that name. But whoever accessed those files wasn’t improvising.”
He looked at Harmony again, and for the first time since he’d stepped inside, real fear edged into his voice. “You need to be careful. All of you. These people must operate on the dark web. It isn’t something I touch.”
Dad didn’t soften. “We always are.”
Noah stepped back into the snow. “Just keep your guard up. Whoever’s doing this, he’s not done.”
“Noah, why have you been lurking around our property?” Becket asked.
Noah flinched. “Didn’t mean anything by it. I was trying to figure out what was going on with the breaches without alerting any of you. The Trust doesn’t exactly want to trigger police surveillance.”
“Is there a reason we should be watching the Trust?” Pierre asked his eyes stern on Noah.
“No, Sir, everything is on the up and up. What’s happening right now is external to the trust. I’m pretty sure it’s all related to Harmony.” He tilted his chin toward Harmony. “She needs to watch her back, like I said.”
“Thanks Noah,” Pierre said.
The door closed behind him with a soft, chilling click. Harmony stared at the floor.
I moved closer, my hand instantly finding hers.
“Sunshine,” I murmured, “look at me.”
Slowly, she lifted her gaze. “Whoever it is, they’re coming for me.”
I cupped her cheek gently, forcing her eyes to meet mine. Fear swam thick, deep and honest in her green depths, making the gold circle inside her eyes seem like fire.
“I don’t care how close he is,” I said softly. “He doesn’t get to you. Not past me. Not past this family.”
Her lip trembled, just barely. “I don’t want anyone else hurt.”
“I’d take a hundred hits before I let him within ten feet of you.”
Her shoulders rose on a shaking inhale. Dad stepped closer; voice steady enough to anchor the whole room. “We’ll tighten security. No unnecessary movement. Becket will run point with the station. We’re on this, Harmony. You’re not facing this alone.”
Harmony swallowed hard, her fingers curling into my sleeve. “I don’t feel safe anywhere.”
I pulled her into my chest, feeling the way she melted and fought it all at once. “You’re safe with me,” I said into her hair.
For a long time, none of us spoke. And when Harmony finally lifted her head, her voice was a fragile thread. “What happens next?”
Dad exchanged a look with Becket, one that told me they both already had an answer.
“We prepare,” Becket said. “Because whoever this man is… he isn’t done.”