“Hey,” he whispered, “look at me.”
I did.
His gaze burned. Protective. Terrified. Steady.
“No one is taking what we’re building. Not from you, and not from us,” Eric said, and the words hit me with the same power as the photo. One terrified me. The other held me together.
Pierre cleared his throat. “We need to talk logistics. Safety plans. Immediately.”
But my eyes were still on the photo. On us. On the shadow in the background.
And the realization that whoever was watching… was not losing interest. They were closing in.
CHAPTER 31
Eric
Harmony lingered at the bottom of the stairs like she wasn’t sure her legs would keep holding her up. The house was warm, the kind of warm most people found comforting, but today it was the kind that made the walls feel too close. She rubbed her arms slowly, staring at the floor instead of the hallway where my dad and brothers waited. I stepped behind her and slid my hands along her arms, letting my palms settle on her shoulders.
“Hey,” I murmured. “Breathe.”
She did, but it was shaky. “I’m okay,” she whispered.
“You don’t have to be,” I said quietly. “Not with me.”
She leaned back into me, just a little. Enough. “I thought after last night… after this morning… maybe things would settle.”
I pressed a slow kiss to the side of her head. “That photo wasn’t your fault. None of it is.”
“I know,” she said, but her voice said the opposite. “It’s just… he’s not stopping. Whoever it is.”
I slid one hand into hers. “You’re not facing him alone. Not anymore.”
She looked up then, eyes soft and scared and brave all at once. The look hit me hard. A twist low in my chest. A reminder of exactly why I couldn’t let anything happen to her. Down the hall, Dad’s voice carried. “Eric?”
“Coming,” I called back.
Harmony swallowed, then nodded, letting me guide her forward. When we reached the dining room doorway, she hesitated again.
“You ready?” I asked softly.
“No,” she said. “But let’s go.”
I squeezed her hand once before leading her inside. The long farmhouse table was covered in files, printouts, a laptop showing camera feeds, and a map of Maple Valley with red markings on it. Dad stood at the head of the table. Becket leaned over the map; jaw tight. Asher sat on the edge of the counter, rolling the wrap around his knuckles tighter, like he’d come straight from a sparring session he didn’t want to talk about. He had been a champion MMA fighter in high school and continued a short time after he graduated, but I didn’t know he was back at it now.
The air didn’t just feel tense. It felt like a storm waiting to break. Harmony stayed close enough that her shoulder brushed mine when we sat. Dad looked at her with an expression that held both authority and something gentler. “We need to talk about what came through this morning, and about new developments with your father.”
Harmony’s body went still beside me. “My father?”
Becket opened the folder in front of him. “The appeal. There’s movement.”
Harmony inhaled sharply. I reached for her hand under the table.
Dad exhaled once, steady and controlled. “The court has moved Marcel’s appeal hearing forward. Significantly.”
Harmony blinked. “How far?”
“Three weeks,” Becket said. “Which is extremely unusual.”
