The truth slammed into place.
“You weren’t protecting me,” I said hoarsely. “You were trying to prove something.”
His face collapsed.
“I didn’t want to be nothing. Our father will be out of prison soon. He’s getting older. I should be the head of the family. Me. You don’t care about the business. You sent him to jail and he still prefers you.
A knock rattled the back door.
“If you’re SableFox and Vesper, then who is Ravenhill? He was dead, Olivier. Tell me now,” I demanded but another knock rattled the door. This one sharper. Deliberate and too calm for someone fleeing through the snow. My heart stopped. Asher shot to his feet, every muscle going taut.
“Stay behind me,” he said, the softness in his voice gone. This was the fighter, the protector, the brother who could break a man’s ribs with one clean strike.
The knock came again. Three times. Measured. Asher moved silently toward the mudroom, shoulders squared, steps controlled. He lifted his hand to signal me to stay. I didn’t move. I couldn’t. Something in the air shifted with a pressuretightening like a hand closing around my lungs. Behind me, Olivier pushed up on an elbow, trembling, eyes blown wide.
“Harmony, don’t answer, don’t . . .”
Asher reached the door. Placed his hand on the knob. The radio clipped at my hip crackled violently. Eric’s voice exploded through the static:
“Harmony, MOVE! He’s headed your way. DO NOT OPEN THAT DOOR!”
Asher froze.
My blood iced.
Olivier’s voice broke into a hoarse scream, “HARM, RUN!”
The doorknob twisted.
And the world split open.
CHAPTER 57
Harmony
The doorknob twisted. And every part of me, every instinct sharpened by years of surviving my father’s world, it all snapped tight at once. Asher didn’t breathe or blink. He shifted his weight like a fighter preparing for the first strike, one hand raised, the other already curling into a fist. The house went silent. The doorknob twisted again, harder this time, metal grinding in a slow, deliberate turn.
“Harmony,” Asher murmured without looking back, “get behind the island.”
My feet didn’t move. I couldn’t. The moment felt too big, sharp and final.
“Move,” Asher ordered, voice low and steady.
But before I could take a step, Olivier lurched upright on the rug with a strangled gasp. “Harm, run.” His voice cracked into a raw, shredded sound. “HE’S HERE. . .”
The doorknob snapped fully open.
Asher slammed his shoulder into the heavy back door just as it burst inward. The collision echoed through the house like a gunshot. Snow exploded across the floor. A dark silhouette filled the doorway: tall, hooded, shoulders too broad to be anyone Iknew, like muscle poured into a man’s shape. He was cold and calculated. He was a man walking into a room he already owned. Asher braced both feet on the tile, shoving back with everything he had.
The intruder shoved harder. The door bucked violently.
“Asher,” I choked.
“Get back, Harmony!” he barked, his voice sharp enough to cut. I couldn’t look away from the silhouette fighting him. The way it pushed against the door with a terrifying patience, like this wasn’t a struggle but a mere formality. A step in a plan already written. The radio at my hip crackled again, Eric’s voice ripping through static: “Harmony, answer me. Asher, hold the door. I’m on my way.” His voice fractured; panic threaded through every word.
The man outside didn’t relent. Another shove rattled the hinges. Olivier coughed behind me, choking on his own breath. “Harm, d-don’t let him touch you.”
I backed up toward the kitchen island, heart battering my ribs so violently it hurt.
