“I didn’t want to drag you into this,” she choked. “I didn’t want you touched by any of my sins.”
“They aren’t your sins to bear, and they touched me the second you came back.” My voice broke despite myself. “You think I’m afraid of your past? I’m more afraid of losing you to it.”
Her eyes softened in a way that nearly undid me. She didn’t cry. She just breathed shallowly, like letting the truth out hadstolen a piece of her endurance. I wrapped my arms around her until she melted and her forehead pressed to my chest. A truck rumbled up the gravel.
Harmony jerked slightly. I tightened my hold. Then three sharp knocks came on the cabin door.
Becket.
“Eric,” his voice called. “Open up.”
I guided Harmony behind me before answering. Becket stepped inside, police instincts on full alert. His gaze immediately landed on the crushed thistle on the table.
“What the hell happened?” he barked, not in an angry way but in a nobody touches my family kind of way.
Harmony’s voice wavered. “Someone left a message for me.”
“What kind of message?” Becket asked.
I picked up the photo and handed it to him. “This kind.”
He swore quietly. “I figured something was off. Montreal Crown Prosecutor’s Office called an hour ago.”
Harmony stiffened.
My heart plummeted.
Becket unfolded a paper. “Your father filed an appeal. And someone submitted an anonymous packet accusing you of tampering with evidence.”
Harmony’s breath hitched. “What?”
“Digital trail is advanced. Someone who knows exactly what they’re doing,” Becket explained.
“Who else would want to hurt you?” Becket asked.
Harmony hesitated. And I hated the look in her eyes. She seemed so haunted, searching her memory, trying to land on one name among dozens.
Then she whispered, “There was one man. My father’s fixer. He handled all the digital work. His alias was V. . .”
The lights flickered. All three of us froze. The wall heater buzzed oddly, then settled. But the cabin suddenly felt colder.Then a soft click outside. The same sound I’d heard near the fence line earlier.
I moved before Harmony could speak. “Stay behind me.”
“Eric. . .” she protested; her voice laced with fear.
“Stay,” I urged for her own safety.
My voice left no room to argue. Becket followed, his posture shifting from cop to protect my older brother at-all-costs. We stepped out into the cold air. Frost glittered across the yard. Rows of orchard trees stood still in the early light. Something metallic glinted near the fence.
Becket swore. “That’s a lens.”
I stormed toward it. A camera. Full-spectrum. High quality. Not cheap. Not amateur. The kind a surveillance someone in tech would use, which meant someone was watching the cabin. Watching Harmony. I tore it off the mount and shoved it into my jacket. When I turned back, Harmony was standing in the cabin doorway, hands shaking as she held the frame. She looked at me like she already knew. My rage, my fear, my resolve, everything in me snapped into something cold and absolute. I walked to her slowly, pulled the crushed thistle from my pocket, and placed it in her palm.
“A message,” I said quietly.
Her eyes filled not with tears, but with something far worse. Recognition. Resignation.
Like she’d expected this fate to eventually catch up.
