Me:She was at the Bellerose mansion. Someone else was there. Tracking her now. Signal is garbage. Might lose you.
Three dots popped up. Then disappeared.
“Come on,” I muttered, lifting the phone higher in case the angle helped.
Nothing.
A low growl of dread settled in my chest. This was more than bad weather. Someone was interfering with communications. Someone who didn’t want us calling for help or calling each other. I shoved the phone away and pushed forward again. The ridge narrowed as it climbed away from the valley, the old Bellerose mansion now a dark blur behind me whenever the snow eased enough to show it. Branches slapped against my coat as I forced myself deeper into the woods, following the same direction Harmony had taken when she ran. The storm made everything feel disoriented, noise and shadow and white-out gusts, but her trail faint and fading still pulled me forward. Then something caught the corner of my light. A dark streak against white. I knelt and brushed away the snow. A smear of fabric fibers snagged on a low branch. Black. Synthetic. Torn. My stomach tightened. Someone passed through here recently. Not Harmony. Someone larger. Taller. Someone whose boots had been shadowing her steps from the start. My pulse hammered. I stood and scanned the trees again, but the woods were too dense, the snow too heavy.
Where are you, Harmony? Who the hell is following you?
Thunder could have cracked overhead, and I wouldn’t have noticed because my panic was louder. I forced myself forward, each step deliberate. Harmony needed me steady, not falling apart. Her tracks curved sharply near a dense cluster of spruce.She must’ve veered to avoid something. Or someone. Then my light hit something half-buried in the snow. Cloth, it was small and thin. I reached down and lifted it. It was her glove. The second one she lost.
My breath hitched.
The lining was still faintly warm. She’d been here minutes ago. She was running harder now. She was scared. The thought punched straight through my ribs.
“I’m coming, Sunshine,” I whispered into the storm. “Hold on.”
A sudden crack snapped through the woods behind me. I spun, flashlight slicing through the dark. Nothing. Only snow drifting in slow spirals.
But the same instincts that had saved my life on calls, the ones that always sharpened when danger was close, screamed at me. Someone was out here with me. Watching me. Waiting. Just like they’d watched her.
“Show yourself,” I muttered, though the words were carried off by the wind. I caught a flicker of motion far behind me. It was a small shift, a ripple of shadow between trees. My pulse surged. I blinked once, hard.
Gone, like it vanished into thin air.
I didn’t yell because I couldn’t risk the wrong person hearing. But if she was close, maybe she’d catch it. Maybe she’d hold on long enough for me to reach her. The woods swallowed the sound whole. I forced myself to breathe, counting each inhalation the way my training taught me to during rescue drills. One. Steady. Two. Focus. Three. Drive the panic down. Four. Move. I pushed deeper into the trees. Then I caught something faint on the snow, barely a shift in texture, almost hidden beneath fresh fall.
A handprint.
Small.
Harmony’s height.
Lower than usual, as if she’d stumbled or pressed herself against the ground. My throat tightened. She was struggling. I placed my hand over the print, feeling the cold sink into my gloves, and whispered, “I’m here. I’m right behind you.”
Up ahead, the woods dipped into a shallow ravine. Harmony’s tracks led into it. The other larger one’s tracks circled wide around the edge, positioning themselves above. My blood ran cold. They were hunting her. I descended the slope carefully, boots sliding on patches of hidden ice. At the bottom, the wind quieted, muffled by the bowl of trees. I followed her tracks as they cut across the dip and started up the opposite side. Then something made me stop.
A breath. Not mine. Soft, faint, just ahead.
“Harmony?” I whispered.
Silence.
The snowfall shifted, drifting in a strange pattern like something had moved between the trees and disturbed the air. I lifted the flashlight higher. Glints of broken ice. Branches bent from recent weight. A scuff mark. Fresh. My heartbeat kicked into a sprint. She was close. She had to be.
“Harmony,” I murmured again, louder this time. “If you can hear me, don’t run from me. I’m right here.”
No answer.
Just the hiss of falling snow.
A twig broke behind me and I swung around. I snapped the light around again. Nothing.
No footsteps. No shadow. Just the weight of someone staying out of sight. My jaw locked. I fought the urge to chase them. Harmony came first. Always. I shoved forward, climbing the opposite ridge wall. The snow was deeper here. My boots sank past my ankles, forcing each step to work. Halfway up, the beam of my flashlight caught on something lying near a tangle of roots.I froze. Her phone. Face down. Snow piling around it. Screen cracked. Fear spiked so fast my breath stuttered.
The screen flickered faintly, then died again. No service. No battery. Nothing. I slid it into my pocket and pushed forward harder. At the crest of the ridge, I stopped, chest heaving. Harmony’s prints continued ahead but they were faint, blurred. The other pair was set deeper and more measured, following the same direction. My flashlight swept the horizon, but the snow was too dense. The storm too fierce. Shapes blurred into one another until I couldn’t tell trees from shadows.
