My breath lodged in my throat. The intruder hadn’t only been inside. They’d been watching the property from outside too. Maybe waiting. A sudden crack behind me scared the crap out of me, but it was another snapping branch. It echoed through the dark. Too close. Fear tightened every muscle in my body. I didn’t turn around or call out. I didn’t breathe more than I had to. I just ran like my life depended on it. Marcel probably had someone from his crew watching the property or maybe it was someone who was after my father’s secrets too.
Either way, I ran into the snow, swept up by the darkness of night toward the ridge because slowing down felt far more dangerous than whoever was following me. Because if it was someone after my father’s secrets, they weren’t going to let me walk away easily.
CHAPTER 42
Eric
The ridge had never felt this dark. Snowflakes spun through the beam of my flashlight like falling ash, erasing the world one layer at a time. The storm muted everything: my breathing, the crunch of my footsteps, even my thoughts. But nothing could mute the one fact pounding through my skull, Harmony was out here somewhere. Alone. Scared. Running.
The cold bit at my cheeks as I followed the faint prints she’d left behind. Her stride was quicker than usual, uneven, slipping occasionally where ice hid beneath the snow. Fear made her fast. Panic made her reckless. I crouched beside a deeper indentation and brushed a thumb along its edge. It was still crisp. She wasn’t far ahead of me. But another set of prints crossed hers that were larger, heavier, cutting in from the side of the ridge path. My stomach knotted hard. Someone had been out here before I even stepped off the porch. And they weren’t wandering. Their track shadowed hers almost exactly, matching her pace without catching up. Heat flared through my chest, sharp enough to cut through the cold. I should have never gone to sleep early. I should’ve known something was wrong.
I pushed forward, boots sinking deeper with each step. The ridge path narrowed between two old pines; branches overhead heavy with snow. A gust swept through, scattering white across my shoulders like confetti from some grim celebration. Behind me, the tracks I’d made were already softening. Harmony was fast. But the storm chasing her was faster. My phone vibrated.
Becket:Where are you? Dad and I are heading up the ridge. Update now.
I typed quickly. ..
Me:She must be on the old ridge road. Fresh prints. Someone else is out here.
Typing dots appeared. . . then paused. . . then vanished. No reply.
A sick dread pooled low in my gut. The ridge always messed with reception, but not like this, not so suddenly or completely. Someone was blocking us or maybe jamming the signal. I hoped it was only my imagination running away on me. I shoved the phone away. Harmony needed me clearheaded, not unraveling. But, it was hard to shake the image of her walking alone into the dark, heart pounding the way it did when shadows reminded her of the childhood she tried so damn hard to escape.
Wind snapped through the trees as I reached the break in the ridge, revealing the Bellerose property in the valley below, a dark stain against the white landscape. Even from this distance, the mansion looked wrong in the snow, like something dead wearing a pretty coat. She’d gone there. That was the only thing that made sense. Harmony would walk straight toward danger if she thought it protected the people she loved. I admired that about her. It also terrified the hell out of me. I moved downhill, scanning the snow for anything she might have dropped, anyclue that might tell me how far ahead she was. Something dark caught my light.
A glove.
Her glove.
I scooped it up. The lining was still warm.
She must have been here minutes ago. The only thing I was grateful for in this moment was my training, the way I learned to track people who were in trouble. I needed to rely on that skill now for the woman I loved.
A branch cracked deeper in the trees. I spun as my heart jolted but the trees stared back, unmoving and indifferent. My gut screamed she wasn’t alone out here. I forced a breath into my lungs and followed her prints toward the house. Halfway there, the wind picked up again, lifting the snow just enough to blur the edges of each step she’d taken.
“Harmony,” I whispered to the storm.
The mansion loomed ahead, its porch sagging beneath untouched snow, except for the narrow line of her footprints leading straight up the stairs. My stomach twisted. She hated this house. She hated everything it represented, which meant she wouldn’t have walked onto this property unless she believed she had no choice.What were you thinking, Sunshine?
As I approached the porch, my light caught a second set of prints that were larger and deeper. They were maybe older by minutes. Someone had stood here. They watched. Waited. A shiver slid down my spine. I stepped off the porch slowly, circling toward the side of the house. If Harmony had gone in, she could’ve come out the back. If she’d panicked and doubled back, the storm would hide her trail within minutes. Halfway down the side wall, something faint smudged across the siding, a handprint. Small. Barely there.
“Harmony…” My voice cracked on her name.
I rounded the corner to the back door and froze.
Footprints that looked to be the size of Harmony’s led away from the house and into the woods behind the property. But another trail followed hers. Larger boots. Deeper indents. A hunter’s rhythm. A pulse of rage hit me so hard I had to brace a hand on my knee to steady myself. I would not lose her or allow anyone to take her from me. I yanked my hood tight and followed the tracks into the trees. Snow hung heavy from the branches overhead, bending them low like arms reaching for the ground. Harmony’s prints weaved between the trunks in a pattern that looked quick and frantic, her pace speeding up the farther she got. The other prints stayed steady. Measured. Patient. Her name pressed against my throat, but I swallowed it. Calling for her would reveal us both. Whoever was out here didn’t need help finding either of us. The trees grew denser. The storm thickened. The tracks blurred faster beneath the falling snow.
“You’re close,” I murmured to myself, breath clouding the air. “You’re so damn close.”
A crack sounded behind me. I spun so fast snow sprayed from my boots. A figure, tall and hooded, stood at the edge of the tree line, barely ten yards back. A flicker of movement. The suggestion of a shoulder turning. Same height. Same stillness. Same deliberate watching as the figure I’d seen at the ridge earlier tonight from the window.
Cold flooded my veins.
I lifted the flashlight, but the beam hit only branches. The figure was gone. My pulse hammered against my ribs. I turned back to the trail and ran. Branches whipped my arms. Snow blinded me. Fear pounded through every vein.
Please.
Please don’t be too far ahead.
