Her throat bobbed.
“I’m so tired of running…” Her voice cracked on the wordtired. “It feels like the past keeps dragging me back, no matter how far I go.”
I brushed a strand of hair from her face, my fingers trembling with the leftover adrenaline.
“You’re not alone anymore,” I murmured. “You hear me? Not in this storm. Not in any of the others.”
Her eyes closed, lashes wet. When she opened them again, something softer flickered through the fear. Trust. Or the edges of it. Hard won and fragile. I slipped my coat off and wrapped it around her shoulders, then guided her toward the door.
“We’re getting you home,” I said quietly. “Dad and Becket are on the ridge. They won’t be far.”
She nodded, though her breath hitched as she glanced through the broken doorframe at the darkness outside where the intruder had vanished.
“Eric?”
“Yeah?”
“Whoever that was… he wasn’t trying to kill me.” She swallowed, voice trembling. “He was trying to corner me. Herd me.”
My blood iced.
That meant planning. That meant motive. That meant someone with a personal stake in her fear. Someone like. . .I shoved the thought down before it surfaced. Not yet.
“Stay close,” I told her, my hand finding hers. “We move together.”
She squeezed my hand back with fragile pressure that was strong enough to steady both of us. We stepped into the storm together. And somewhere unseen in the trees, far enough to stay hidden but close enough to listen…someone watched us leave.
CHAPTER 47
Eric
“He knew I’d run,” she whispered. “He knew exactly where I’d go.”
I stood beside her. “Not anymore. You’re not alone out here.”
For a moment she didn’t breathe. Then she gave a small, shaky nod and stepped closer to me, just needing the contact to anchor herself. We walked again, slower now, listening. Watching. The storm pressed around us like a living thing.Finally, a beam of light cut through the trees ahead.
“Eric!” Becket’s voice carried sharp and relieved through the wind.
“Over here!”
Harmony sagged with relief so intense her knees dipped. I caught her waist before she fell and guided her up the ridge incline. Dad reached us first, snow in his brows, expression carved from pure fear.
“Harmony.” His voice cracked. “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head, but Dad still swept her into his arms, a strong, fatherly hold that made her eyes slam shut, her breath shuddering against his shoulder.
Becket reached me next. “What happened?”
“There was someone in the cabin,” I said. “Tall. Fast. He went for her.”
“He moved like he knew the terrain,” Becket added. “Like someone trained. I’ve been tracking his steps.”
The man hadn’t come to kill Harmony. He’d come to contain her, maybe take her. Or take her back to someone. Harmony pulled away from Dad slowly, her focus foggy, tired. She was shaking again like her body was in shock.
Dad cupped her cheek gently. “We’re taking you home.”
But Harmony flinched, barely, but enough I saw it. Not at Dad. At the wordhome.Home didn’t feel safe to her right now. Not when someone knew her patterns. Not when someone had been inside her father’s house and inside her head. I stepped toward her and lifted her chin with two fingers. Her eyes met mine, wide, wet, and holding the fear she tried so hard to control.
