Dad met her gaze with fatherly gravity. “That means this entry wasn’t made by Marcel. Federal agents had already frozen his credentials at that point.”
Harmony swallowed hard. “But how can it be Ravenhill?”
“He’s either not dead or someone else is using the alias,” Becket explained. “I’ve heard the name before. My contact inthe provincial organized-crime unit mentioned him once and the name has shown up in joint task-force chatter out of Montreal. They’re basically Quebec’s version of a major crimes and organized-crime division, the people who work with federal agencies. I worked with them during Marcel’s takedown,” Becket added. “Once your father’s files hit their system, anything involving your name became shared intel.”
Dad’s jaw tightened. “If Ravenhill accessed Marcel’s relay six months ago, he wasn’t tracking Marcel.”
Harmony’s breath caught. “He was tracking me.” Harmony went still beside me. Her shoulders were tight, her breath caught, like the truth landed harder than she expected.
“We’re one step closer to knowing who he is. And that means we’re one step closer to stopping him,” I said, trying to reassure her.
Heat crawled under my ribs, sharp and controlled. Whoever Ravenhill was, he’d been watching Harmony long before tonight, and I wasn’t letting him get close again.
A tear slid down her cheek. She didn’t try to hide it.
“I thought… maybe it was just the men chasing Riley,” she whispered. “Or some leftover threat from Marcel’s world. But this feels different. It feels personal.”
“It is,” Dad confirmed quietly. “Someone wanted you alive. Someone wanted control, not chaos.”
Harmony flinched like the words touched too deep. She pulled her hand from mine, only to wipe at her face quickly, then let me take it again after. Dad stood and placed a steady hand on her shoulder. “We’ll protect you, Harmony. This house, this family, we don’t lose our own. Not ever.”
Her breath trembled at the word family. Her gaze lifted to mine, something fragile and fierce all at once.
“I’m scared,” she said, and I knew how hard it was for her to admit those words out loud.
“I know,” I whispered. “That just means you’re human. But you’re still here. And I’m not letting anything touch you.”
Becket cleared his throat gently. “It’s late. You two should try to get some rest. Dad and I are doing shifts.”
Harmony hesitated. “He could be outside right now.”
Dad’s jaw was so taut I thought it might snap. “Let him try.”
I guided Harmony back upstairs. The storm still clawed at the windows, the house creaking softly under winter’s weight.
When we reached my room, she stopped in the doorway.
“Eric?”
“Yeah?”
“Will you stay awake with me?”
I brushed her cheek, letting my forehead rest against hers.
“I’m not closing my eyes until you’re safe.”
Her breath hitched this time, not from fear but something gentler. She slipped into bed, and I settled beside her, keeping her tucked against me. Her fingers curled into my shirt again, just like before. Outside, the storm raged. Inside, she finally breathed. And long after her eyes drifted closed, I kept watch, listening for footsteps, shadows, anything out of place. Because Ravenhill was real. And he was close. But so was I. And I wasn’t going to let her run anymore.
CHAPTER 50
Eric
Morning didn’t feel like morning. The storm had settled into a dull hush outside, snow still drifting from the roof like the world hadn’t decided yet whether it wanted to wake up. The house was dim, quiet, too still for my liking. Harmony sat at the kitchen table with both hands wrapped around a mug of tea she hadn’t taken a sip of. Her eyes were open, but she looked like she was watching something no one else could see.
I set a plate of toast in front of her. “You need to eat something. You can’t run on empty.”
She blinked, like returning from far away. “I’m not hungry.”
