Chapter 30
Phoenix
The main house quieted after our large Thanksgiving/Braden’s first birthday family gathering. It was full one moment, echoing the next. Plates were stacked in the kitchen and laughter still clung to the walls, making the house feel like the home it always was.
Elyna was still inside, helping Angela and Sandy put away dessert plates while Braden snored softly in his stroller near the hearth.
Every few seconds, I caught sight of her.
The way her head tilted as she laughed at something Eric said, or her hand brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
I swear just watching her smile made my chest go lighter and heavier at the same time.
It was a peaceful night for a change. I wasn’t checking the windows or my phone.
But my father wasn’t a man who let the world rest and neither was Becket, especially when whispers of trouble were drifting onto our horizon.
Dad’s voice carried from the back hall, low and steady. “Phoenix. A word.” His tone was half-command, half-care, it was Dad in director mode, which meant he couldn’t be ignored.
I followed him into his office, Becket already there leaning against the old oak desk, arms crossed.
The firelight caught the hard line of his jaw, and I knew before a word was spoken this wasn’t just a check-in.
Dad closed the door behind me. “We’ve been reviewing the call logs,” he began.
“The texts from the unknown numbers. . .there’s something off. ”
“Off how?”
Becket answered, voice clipped, “The origin isn’t consistent.
Some were sent from a VoIP relay out of Montreal, others pinged local towers.
But none of them match the last known number Riley used,” Dad explained.
The Voice over Internet Protocol allowed a person to make phone calls over the internet instead of a traditional phone line.
My chest tightened. “So, it’s not Riley?”
Dad sighed. “We can’t rule it out, but we can’t confirm it either. If Riley’s involved, someone’s feeding him the tools or someone else is using his phone. Either way, it means we’re dealing with someone organized.”
I ran a hand down my face. “Tell me you’ve got something more than speculation.”
Becket glanced at Dad before answering. “We traced a secondary data trail. There were multiple calls from a prepaid phone, same routing network, to a burner that was flagged in a narcotics sting in Montreal two months ago. That phone belonged to a man named Louis Marchand.”
“Marchand,” I repeated. The name wasn’t familiar.
Dad nodded grimly. “Small-time enforcer. Works collections for mid-level loan sharks.
The kind of man who’d take a job finding someone who owed money. Riley owed money. I’m guessing the thousand bucks Elyna gave him wasn’t enough to keep criminals at bay.”
The thought hit like a weight. “So, Riley’s debts caught up to him.”
“That’s what we think,” Becket said. “But the problem is, whoever’s running Marchand, they’re not local, but they have eyes in Val-Du-Lys. We’ve had reports of a couple of new faces asking questions about the Maple Valley property.”
My stomach dropped. “About us?”
Dad’s look was steady but hard. “About Elyna.”
The room went cold, despite the crackle of the fire. I gripped the edge of the desk. “You think they’re using Riley to get to her?”
“It’s possible,” Dad said. “We’ve seen it before, intimidation by proxy. They use the person closest to the debtor to send a message.”
I swore under my breath. “Then they’ve made a mistake. Because she’s not alone.”
Dad’s gaze softened, though the authority in his voice never wavered.
“That’s exactly why I’m telling you this now, Son.
You keep doing what you’re doing but keep your eyes open.
I’ll handle the rest quietly. Becket’s got two men stationed near the property at night. You won’t see them, but they’re there.”
Becket gave a nod. “If they try anything, we’ll know.”
I didn’t trust myself to speak for a moment. The mix of rage and protectiveness coiled tight under my ribs.
“What do I tell Elyna? She’ll be terrified.”
Dad hesitated. “Nothing yet. She’s been through enough. Let her breathe, just for tonight. It’s Thanksgiving and her son’s first birthday it’s not the time for fear let her enjoy tonight.”
I wanted to argue, but he wasn’t wrong.
Becket clapped my shoulder once, firmly. “Go sit with your girl. We’ll take care of the situation.”
He left the room, and I stayed for a second longer, staring at the old family photos on the wall, Mom’s smile, my brothers in their younger days, our whole family frozen in a moment before everything got complicated.
Then I headed back down the hall.
Elyna was by the fire, Braden asleep beside her. She was barefoot now, her dress hem brushing the floor, soft lamplight glinting in her hair. She looked up when I entered, and the exhaustion in her eyes was shadowed by something else, something tender, open.
“Everything okay?” she asked. My chest squeezed.
“Yeah,” I said, dropping onto the couch beside her. “Dad just wanted to talk about some work stuff.”
She smiled faintly. “Even on a holiday?”
“He doesn’t know how to turn it off.” I forced a grin for her sake.
She leaned into me, her head against my shoulder. The fire crackled; the sounds of the others faded as doors shut and laughter drifted upstairs. I wrapped an arm around her and breathed her in: baby shampoo, sugar, a hint of cinnamon.
“Thank you for bringing me tonight, for making this day special for Braden. For letting me be part of this. I think Braden knew it was his birthday with all the attention on him. He was happy.”
“You are part of this,” I murmured, brushing my thumb along her arm. “Part of us. Braden is too. We don’t let birthdays slide without making a fuss.”
Her breath caught, soft, and then she shifted closer, looking up at me through her lashes. “Phoenix…”
The way she said my name was all it took for that ache that lived somewhere between gratitude and desire to spark.
I bent my head and kissed her.
It wasn’t a kiss like the last one, which was hungry and desperate, this one carried weight. It was slow, deep, the kind that said you didn’t want the night to end. The kind that built heat without trying.
When she broke away, her forehead rested against mine. “You sure this is okay?” she whispered. “With your family here. . .”
“They’re half-asleep,” I said, smiling against her mouth. “And I don’t care.”
Her laugh was quiet, breathy. “You’re impossible.”
“Yeah,” I said, nuzzling her neck. “But you like me that way.”
She did. I felt it in the way her pulse jumped under my lips. The warmth of her skin, the way her fingers fisted lightly in my shirt. Outside, wind rustled the trees, and somewhere in the distance, a motion light clicked on.
Neither of us moved.
For now, it was just us in the warmth, the firelight, and the soft, rhythmic breaths of the baby beside us.
I kissed her again, slower this time, until her body melted into mine and the rest of the world faded.