“He arrived in Montreal yesterday. Staying a few blocks from the courthouse,” Becket said.
Harmony shook her head. “He’s impulsive, not calculating. He wouldn’t do this.”
“No,” I agreed. “But he might have information. Or be manipulated by someone who does.”
Dad folded his arms. “At this stage, we treat all four as possibilities. For different reasons.”
Harmony stared at the table, chest rising and falling too fast.
I leaned closer. “Hey. Look at me.”
She did. Barely.
“We’re going to figure this out,” I said quietly.
Her throat bobbed. Dad tapped the map again, listing rotation schedules and tightened routes for Harmony’s movements, but my attention stayed on her, on the way her fingers curled toward mine, the way she tried to stay small, even though she was doing everything not to. Becket drew a line across the map.
“We’ll stagger coverage. I’ll take mornings and camera analysis. Eric—afternoons.”
“Done,” I said immediately.
“Asher covers the community center,” Dad added.
Harmony turned her head slightly. “You’re working at the center now?”
Asher shrugged, rolling his shoulders like he was trying to make himself bigger and smaller at once. “Open gym starts at four. The older boys need sparring rounds. I’m just… helping out.”
Harmony’s brows lifted. “You’re coaching them?”
“Someone should.” He tugged the wrap tighter around his knuckles. “They listen. Most days.”
Dad gave him a look halfway between approval and concern. “You keep an eye out there. The parking lot angles are vulnerable.”
Asher nodded once. “Already saw that. I’ll watch the back entrance too.”
Harmony absorbed that quietly, a flicker of gratitude softening her expression for half a second.
Dad shifted the conversation. “Eric, you stay with her today. No exceptions.”
“Wasn’t planning any,” I said.
Harmony shot me a look like she wanted to argue, but the new photo sitting on the table cut her protest before it started.
Becket broke the silence first. “Whoever sent that image four hours ago knows this house. The angles. The blind spots.”
My stomach knotted. “They were outside before dawn.”
Dad’s jaw was stone. “This person is escalating. They’re circling closer.”
Harmony rubbed her palms together once, grounding herself. “So what next? What do we do now?”
“We lock things down,” Dad said. “But we don’t react blindly. Fear is what they want.”
Becket typed something on his laptop, frowning. “I can tell my contact to track the relay they used, but it’ll take hours. Maybe days.”
Harmony straightened suddenly. “I can track it.”
The whole room froze.
