A thud made me stop. It was soft and distant like the heavy slide of something hitting snow. My heart dropped. Someone fell.
“Harmony?”
Nothing.
A shadow moved far ahead. I took off, my boots trudging through the snow, my lungs burning and heart pounding so violently I tasted metal. I didn’t care how fast the storm erased her trail. I didn’t care who else was out here. I wasn’t going to lose track of her. I would tear through every inch of this ridge until she was in my arms. And if anyone hurt her, there would be hell to pay.
CHAPTER 45
Harmony
The forest changed as I pushed deeper into it, less ridge, more wild, with older trees stories high. The storm muffled everything except the rasp of my breathing and the hiss of snow brushing against branches. My legs shook from exertion, each step heavier than the last, but the fear propelling me forward refused to let me stop. The trees thickened overhead, knitting into a canopy that dimmed the night. When I finally slowed, it wasn’t because I felt safe. It was because something in the woods shifted, an almost imperceptible change in the air, like pressure before a storm. I pressed a hand to a cedar trunk, steadying myself. The bark bit into my palm. My breath fogged in quick bursts.
My phone was gone, lost somewhere on the ridge when panic outran caution. Everything felt like it was being stripped away—my warmth, safety, and logic. But knowledge didn’t need a device to survive. Marcel taught me that much.
“If you want to see someone’s truth,” he used to say, “follow their relays. They’ll tell you the story they never meant to write.”
Back then, it terrified me. Tonight, it might save my life. The forest around me was too still and waiting. A chill crawled up my spine. I forced myself onward, scanning the trees for anything that resembled shelter or high ground. The wind shifted as I crested a shallow dip, revealing something half-buried in snow at the base of an old birch stand. A cabin. Small. Weathered. There were no footprints leading to the entrance, except for a distorted patch near the door old, softened by snow. It was either a cover or a trap. Maybe both. I moved toward it; each step cautious but deliberate. The snow thinned beneath the awning. I tugged once on the rusted handle. It gave way with a soft groan.
Inside was darkness, cold and thick dust that was enough to choke on. But it was shelter.
I slipped inside and shut the door before the wind could snatch it back. The cabin held nothing but an overturned chair, a rotted counter, and an iron stove that hadn’t seen fire in years. The air smelled like damp wood and absence. But it was still a barrier between me and the storm, and for that I was grateful.
Snow slid from my coat as I sank to the floor, back pressed to the wall. My muscles quivered with exhaustion. The silence pressed around me, but it was different now, not predatory. A fragile reprieve.
Ravenhill.
Six months pre-arrest.
I had to remember all the details of the relay.
That timestamp dug a splinter straight into my ribs. Six months ago, I wasn’t even in Val-Du-Lys. I was in Montreal. It was during the time my life spun out of control. Riley Jansen resurfaced with debts tied to men who didn’t forgive, and he brought them to Val-Du-Lys. To my father’s backyard. Strangers started hanging outside my building. Following me to the Metro. Asking about me. Nico was the one who finally told me the truth. I still remembered leaving Montreal in a panic with theheadlights chasing me, the sick certainty those men weren’t there for a conversation. Hands shaking on the wheel, praying I wouldn’t die before sunrise.
They would have caught me if the Val-Du-Lys police hadn’t intercepted them. Pierre pulled me from the car. Pierre promised I was safe. That was the night I realized I couldn’t outrun Marcel’s world. If I wanted a life of my own, I had to expose him.
So Ravenhill…
If that relay was logged during that time, then what did it mean? There was a new Ravenhill? Maybe. I jolted upright. Footsteps paused just outside. Snow shifted. A weight settled on the porch boards. Every cell in my body screamed danger.
A voice. Soft. Low. Familiar in a way that cracked something inside me.
“Harmony?”
Eric.
Or maybe not. Maybe the storm was twisting sound. Maybe fear was shaping shadows into people. The doorknob turned. I clamped a hand over my mouth. The door scraped open an inch, letting in a sliver of night. Snow swirled through the gap. Another sound, heavier footfalls followed behind the voice.
Two people.
Too close.
“Harmony…” the voice murmured again, rougher, strained. “Please don’t run.”
Eric.
I knew it then. Knew it in the marrow of me. The way he said my name, like he was afraid to break me, wasn’t something the storm could fake. Relief barely touched me before a shadow crossed behind him, moving toward the cabin with predatory certainty. My breath froze. Eric was in danger. I shifted forward, fingers curling around a piece of broken wood from the cabinfloor. My hand shook, but my resolve was stronger. The shadow angled closer. Eric didn’t notice the man coming for him. My pulse screamed.
“Eric!” I choked out.
