“EMS is taking him,” Pierre said softly, nodding toward Olivier. “But before they do, if there’s anything he needs to say…”
Asher stepped away, giving the EMTs space. Eric didn’t move from in front of me. His hand stayed at my waist, thumb rubbingtiny circles into my hip like he couldn’t stop reminding himself I was standing.
Alive.
Here.
His.
Olivier’s gaze found mine as the EMTs knelt beside him. His mouth trembled at the edges.
“Harm,” he whispered, voice thin and frayed. “I’m… I’m sorry. I never meant for any of this to touch you.”
My throat burned. “But you let it.”
He nodded, eyes glistening. “Because I wasn’t strong. Because I didn’t know how to be anything but what he made me.”
“I thought if I took the handle… if I stepped into the world you left behind… I could keep you close without dragging you under.” His voice shook. “I was so angry you walked away from us. I was angry you didn’t look back. I kept thinking if I could just make you see what we were born into, you’d come home. You’d see me.”
My eyes blurred. “Olivier…”
“But instead,” he whispered, “I turned into the thing you were running from.”
Silence folded around us. Heavy. Human. Real.
He looked down at his shaking hands. “I didn’t come here tonight to destroy you. I came because I knew he would. And because part of me hoped… if I told you the truth, you’d finally see I was worth saving.”
A breath trembled out of me, half grief, half release.
“I can’t save you,” I whispered. “But I hope someday you can save yourself.”
His eyes closed, and a single tear slipped across the bruises marring his cheek. Then the EMTs lifted him gently, guiding him onto the stretcher.
“Harm…” he said one last time, voice faint and childlike.
“I never wanted to lose you.”
“You did that on your own,” I whispered back.
The EMTs began rolling Olivier toward the door. His gaze wild, exhausted, and fractured snapped to mine one last time.
“Harm…” His voice cracked, barely audible over the wheels of the stretcher. “Little thistle… I should’ve protected you better.”
It wasn’t an excuse. It wasn’t a plea. Just a truth that arrived too late. I swallowed hard, unable to form the words rising in my chest. Olivier closed his eyes as they guided him out into the snow.
A moment later, Pierre stepped into the doorway, brushing snow from his shoulders. His expression was grim but steady, the kind of steady that made people in this town trust him without question.
“We got him,” Pierre said quietly. “The mercenary, the man using Ravenhill’s name. He’s in cuffs and headed to Sherbrooke for processing. He won’t be coming back here tonight. Not ever, if I can help it.”
Eric let out a breath that sounded like it had been lodged in his lungs for years.
Asher sagged back against the counter, running a hand through his hair.
The house finally exhaled.
Pierre glanced between us, something softening in his eyes. “You two should get out of this place for a bit. We’ll finish up here. Cleanup crews will come in the morning to deal with the damage and the snow.”
Eric looked at me, searching not for permission, but for how much of me was still shaking.
