Becket nodded grimly. “Dad and I are going out again once she’s awake.”
“She won’t like knowing he was that close,” I muttered.
“She deserves the truth,” he said.
And I hated how right he was. I crawled back into bed and she instinctively curled her body against mine. Exhaustion sucked me under, even with the threat closing in.
I opened my eyes to see soft light pouring in through the blinds. Harmony was standing at the window in my sweatshirt, hair falling over one shoulder, looking small against the growing light outside. The sky was pale and washed-out, the kind of winter morning that erased shadows instead of creating them.
“You found something,” she said quietly.
She hadn’t turned around. She didn’t need to.
“Footprints,” I said, stepping behind her. “Close to the orchard.”
Her shoulders tightened beneath my hands.
“When?” she whispered.
“Last night after you fell asleep.”
She took that in without speaking, jaw working gently as she stared at the frost clinging to the glass. Then she exhaled, long and steady.
“I’m done running from ghosts,” she said.
The words were quiet, but they hit like a declaration.
I got out of bed and walked over to her and curled an arm around her waist, pulling her back against my chest. “You’re not facing them alone.”
She nodded, threading her fingers through mine. “Then let’s go downstairs.” Her tone was certain and sure. There was a resolve that wasn’t present before. Like she was gearing up for battle and maybe she was. She had spent so many years fighting her family, but she still had fight left in her. She turned to me and I saw the blaze at the center of her green eyes. She wasn’t backing down and for that I admired her.
She kissed me with an intensity that sucked my breath, but neither of us could get carried away now with the threats that were looming.
“We should go check in with your brother and father,” she said.
I groaned. “You’re right.”
I slipped on a pair of joggers and a sweatshirt and I took her hand. She gave me the smallest of smiles but it hit me center chest.
Dad already had maps spread across the kitchen table. Becket stood beside him, arms folded, knuckles tight. Harmony slipped her hand into mine like she needed the grounding, and I squeezed gently.
Dad looked up. “Harmony… sweetheart, you should sit.”
She didn’t. “Just tell me.”
Becket pointed at the map. “Whoever’s watching you knows the ridge better than we thought. He stayed downwind. Found elevation. Knew where our cameras are.”
Harmony’s throat bobbed.
I pulled out a chair for her, and this time she sat, her fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt.
“What does he want?” she whispered.
Silence met her question.
Dad called in the direction of the entryway, “Ash?”
Asher appeared a moment later, barefoot, hair sticking up in every possible direction, wearing plaid pajama pants and the same T-shirt he’d thrown on after dinner last night. Braden’s sticky fingerprints from last night were still faintly on his sleeve.
