“This isn’t hiding, Harmony. It’s surviving.”
Something in his tone made me pause. “You really think they’d come after me here?”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he walked to the window and looked out across the street. “I think whoever sent that photo wants you scared. And if fear doesn’t work, they’ll find another way.”
I swallowed. “So what do I do?”
“You stay close,” he said simply.
“To who?”
His eyes met mine. “To me.”
It should’ve sounded like an order, but instead it felt like a promise.
He moved closer again, stopping just in front of me. “I meant what I said last night. I’m not letting anyone hurt you.”
The words warmed something cold inside me. I wanted to tell him I could take care of myself, that I’d learned how to fight the darkness on my own, but I didn’t want to fight anymore. Not like this.
“Okay,” I agreed quietly.
He blinked, almost like he didn’t expect me to agree. “Okay?”
“I’ll stay close,” I said. “For now.”
His mouth curved slightly. “You’re terrible at following orders.”
“I’m not following yours,” I said, my voice steadying. “I’m choosing to trust you.”
For a long second, he just looked at me. Then, without a word, he reached for my hand and gave it a small squeeze.
“I’ll be back in an hour,” he said. “Lock the door. Don’t open it for anyone.”
When he left, the quiet felt heavier than before. I sat at the table, the photo now sealed in Becket’s evidence sleeve, and stared out the window at the orchard stretching beyond the town.
The wind picked up, carrying the faint scent of apples and rain, the same scent that had always meant freedom to me. But this time, it felt different. Like the air itself was holding its breath, waiting for something to break. And for the first time in a long time, I realized maybe I wasn’t just part of the Bellerose story. Maybe I was the piece that could end it.
CHAPTER 16
Eric
The smell of coffee and cinnamon hit me before I even stepped into the main house. The morning after a wedding always had its own kind of chaos: half laughter, half exhaustion. Someone had music playing low, Braden’s giggles bounced down the hallway, and the kitchen table overflowed with pancakes, scrambled eggs, and enough pastries to feed half of Val-Du-Lys.
Sandy moved between the counters, with that practiced grace she somehow made look effortless, with a bright scarf tied at her neck, sleeves rolled up, and Dad following behind her with a coffeepot in hand.
“If anyone leaves hungry, that’s on you,” she said, flipping another pancake.
Harmony sat near the window, sunlight catching the copper strands in her hair. She looked tired but beautiful, in that quiet way she didn’t see in herself. A soft sweater hung off one shoulder when she laughed at something Elyna said. A sound that did something strange to my chest.
“Morning,” I said, sliding into the seat across from her.
Dad grinned. “Our volunteer firefighter finally wakes. Thought we’d have to send Sandy to bang on your door.”
“Wouldn’t dare,” Sandy said, winking. “I’ve got a full crew to feed.”
Phoenix balanced Braden on his knee. “Probably checking orchard fences again,” he teased.
“Something like that,” I muttered, reaching for my mug. Harmony’s eyes flicked toward mine, quick and warm, before she looked away. It hit like a punch and a comfort at the same time.
