He squeezed my shoulder, firm and grounding. “Stay close. Don’t give her room to slip off alone. That girl… she’s planning something. I can feel it.”
I swallowed hard. “I know.”
“Good.” Dad released me.
When I finally followed Harmony inside, his words stayed lodged under my skin,
tightening everything I already feared. The danger wasn’t approaching. It was already here.
CHAPTER 39
Harmony
By late afternoon, the snow had thickened into a soft white curtain that blurred the orchard rows and turned Maple Valley into something out of a postcard—quiet, delicate, and deceptively peaceful. The kind of scene tourists would gush over. The kind of stillness that made people lower their guard. But beneath all the beauty, something inside me was too alert for peace. Every sound felt muted and swallowed by the snow. Even my own footsteps seemed quieter, like the world was trying to hide me or hide something from me.
Eric walked beside me along the back porch, his shoulder brushing mine every few steps. A small touch that was barely noticeable but grounding and comforting. And dangerous in a different way because it made me want things I was afraid to name. Things that didn’t belong to a girl raised inside a criminal empire. Things that didn’t survive the kind of secrets I carried.
“You’re quiet,” he murmured beside me.
I tucked my hands deeper into my pockets. “Just thinking.”
“That’s what scares me.” He nudged my arm gently, his voice soft, teasing in a way that carried truth under the humor. “Your thoughts run faster than mine do.”
I smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach my eyes. My thoughts weren’t running they were constructing, analyzing, cutting through layers of possibility, the way Marcel trained me to do when danger lurked beneath the surface. And the worst part? It felt natural. Too natural. Like slipping into a language I hadn’t spoken in years, but never truly forgot. Eric held the porch door open for me. The warmth from the kitchen brushed across my chilled skin as we stepped inside. The air smelled faintly of coffee and pine cleaner, the scent of a house that belonged to people who had stability. Safety. Lives that didn’t shatter under the weight of secrets.
Pierre sat at the table, reading glasses low on his nose as he sorted printed reports into stacks. He looked up when we entered, first at me then at Eric. Something unreadable flickered across his expression. Not suspicion. Not concern exactly. Something heavier. Something protective.
“Patrol shift changed early,” Pierre said gruffly. “The deputy covering the ridge tonight called in sick. I’ll be out again after dinner.”
Eric stiffened. “Dad, you’ve been out since before sunrise.”
Pierre gave a weary shrug; the kind of shrug men give when the weight of the world sits on their shoulders and they have no choice but to lift it anyway. “I’ll rest when I know what we’re dealing with.”
His gaze swept back to me, softer now. “You holding up, Harmony?”
I nodded once. “Trying.”
That answer seemed to sit heavy between the three of us. Trying. Not succeeding. Not failing. Just… trying. Pierre didn’t press. He had instincts sharper than most law enforcement officers in the region, but he also had empathy that didn’t need words.
He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “There’s talk in town again.”
The bottom of my stomach dipped. “About Marcel?”
“About the appeal,” he said. “People are anxious. Some are angry. Some are convinced he’ll get out.” His jaw tightened. “It’s stirring things up.”
Of course it was. Marcel Bellerose didn’t just cast a shadow. He cast a stain.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
Pierre’s head snapped up; eyes steely. “You don’t apologize for his choices. You hear me?”
My throat tightened. I nodded, but guilt still pooled behind my ribs like something thick and impossible to wash out. Then Pierre did something I didn’t expect. He put a hand on Eric’s shoulder, a firm, fatherly squeeze. “Stay close to her,” he murmured. “Trust your instincts.”
Eric nodded, jaw set.
Pierre turned to me. “And you… trust in him.”
My chest twisted painfully. Because I was about to exactly betray that trust.
