I tighten my hold, my voice fierce and absolute. “This is not your fault. He made this choice. Not you.”
She shakes her head, grief overwhelming reason. “Everything I built is gone.”
I press my forehead to hers. “Then we rebuild. Together.”
She looks up at me, eyes hollow and terrified. “I don’t have the money. The insurance… it might not cover arson.”
The truth of that hits hard. Her dream isn’t merely damaged. It’s ashes. And whoever did this is still out there.
I keep one arm around Harper while Roz crouches on her other side, murmuring apologies that don’t make sense and don’t need to. Mason stays pressed against Harper’s chest, hissmall hands fisted in her jacket, eyes squeezed shut as if he can’t see it, it might stop being real.
I shift enough to block his view of the wreckage, angling my body between him and the ruins of the bar. I can’t undo what he’s seen. I can at least keep him from seeing more.
“I’m sorry,” Harper whispers again, like the words are being dragged out of her. “I should have protected it better. I should have protected all of this.”
I pull back enough to look at her. Her face is streaked with tears and soot, eyes red and hollow, but there’s still that stubborn core in her that refuses to disappear even now. “Roz is alive. No one was inside. Things can be replaced. People can’t be.”
Grant steps closer, careful not to intrude too abruptly. He keeps his voice low, respectful, aware of the kid in Harper’s arms. “We’re treating this as a criminal arson. We’ll need formal statements later, but not tonight. Go somewhere safe for now. We will reconnect soon.”
“She’s staying with me.”
He nods once. “Good. That fancy penthouse of yours is quiet.” He gives a sheepish smile, then makes his way to Morales.
As the scene clears, the reality of the damage becomes unavoidable. There’s nothing left to save.
Roz wipes her face with the sleeve of her jacket, anger bleeding through the shock now. “He knew how to hurt us the most.”
“Yes,” I answer quietly. “He did.”
That knowledge settles like a weight in my chest. Marcus didn’t want revenge. He wanted to destroy her. I won’t let him have that satisfaction.
Sirens fade as engines begin to pack up, crews rotating out, exhaustion winning over adrenaline. I get Harper and Masonback into the car, wrapping Mason in a blanket I grab from one of the rigs. He’s gone quiet now, thumb tucked into his mouth, eyes glassy and distant.
That scares me more than the crying did.
Harper stares straight ahead as I drive, her hands folded tightly in her lap like she’s afraid they might shake if she lets them rest naturally. I reach over and lace my fingers through hers. She squeezes back, hard, like she’s anchoring herself to something solid in a world that caught fire.
I’ll let her break my fingers if that’ll make her feel better. “We’re going to get through this. You’re not doing this alone.”
She nods, tears slipping free again. “I don’t know how to start over.”
“Yes, you do. You’ve done it before, and you can do it?—”
“I don’t know how to do itagain, Aiden.” Her voice is heavy with bone-deep exhaustion. “It took everything I had the first time.”
“Well, this time, you have me. And you don’t have to start tonight. Tonight, you just survive.”
The words feel small compared to the destruction we’re leaving behind. But survival is where rebuilding always begins. Her face is blank in a way that tells me she’s holding herself together by force alone. I’ve seen that expression before, on people who don’t allow themselves to fall apart until they know it’s safe.
I keep my voice low as I drive. “Tomorrow we’ll talk to insurance, to the police, to anyone who needs talking to. One step at a time.”
Her mouth tightens. Her voice is barely audible. “It feels over.”
I don’t argue with feelings. Doing that can set someone off when they’re fragile. I learned that in my first few years fighting fires, rescuing people from flipped vehicles, and the rest of it.Feelings are part of a person, and when they’ve been through hell, arguing against them is another personal attack on them.
Instead, I reach across the console and take her hand again. I don’t promise miracles. I don’t pretend this will be easy. “Whatever happens, I’m here, Harper.”
A single tear tracks through the soot on her cheek.
