“Not exactly,” Becket said, tapping a key. “Your old channels are still active. Not sending anything, but awake. Whoever used your relay hasn’t repeated the activity, but that silence is just as calculated.”
Harmony inhaled sharply; eyes fixed on the counter.
Dad reached for a new file. “We’re tightening the perimeter here. I don’t want you alone anywhere on the property. You stay with one of us. If you need to go into town, we handle that too.”
She nodded, even though I knew she hated it.
And then her gaze drifted. It was just a flicker. Barely a second. But she looked toward Becket’s open laptop where the relay diagrams and code maps were dancing across the screen.Her gaze held longer than she realized. Her fingers tightened on her mug. A subtle, familiar focus slid behind her eyes. A kind of alertness she hadn’t shown since the night she told me about what she’d done years ago.
I felt her tense under my hand.
“Harmony,” I murmured.
She blinked quickly and looked away. But the moment was enough to solidify the fact something inside her had shifted. It wasn’t fear, panic, or resolve. I knew before she even said a word, we weren’t going to be able to keep her away from whatever digital trail was hunting her.
Harmony didn’t say anything for a long moment, she just kept staring into her mug, like answers might surface if she willed them hard enough. The morning light coming through the kitchen windows caught the faint shadows beneath her eyes, the tension in her jaw, the stiffness in her shoulders. She’d been strong for so long, too long, and every instinct in me screamed to pull her close and promise none of this would touch her again. But I couldn’t make that promise, and we both knew it.
Dad slipped on his jacket. “I’m heading to the festival grounds. Patrol rotation changed at eight. I want to walk the perimeter myself.”
Harmony sat up straighter. “Pierre, you don’t have to.”
“Yes,” Dad said calmly but firmly, “I do.”
He gave her a softer look, one that wasn’t often seen by the general public. “You stay here with Eric for a few hours. I’ll be back by noon.”
When he left, the door shut with a finality that made the kitchen go still again.
Asher poured himself coffee, muttering, “And I’m heading to the center. Morning class is at nine.”
Harmony blinked. “You have morning classes now?”
He shrugged, as if the fact he’d somehow become the unofficial MMA coach for half the teens in town wasn’t newsworthy. “Kids keep showing up early. Might as well use the time. They’re good kids. Some of them need… something steady.”
“Like you?” she asked, offering a small smile.
He snorted. “They’re in trouble if that’s the case.” Then, quieter, “But yeah. Maybe.”
He grabbed his keys and paused near her chair. “You heading in today?”
Harmony hesitated. “Maybe later this evening. Sandy said she can manage the morning rush at the flower shop, and I plan to just hang around here all day.”
“Solid plan, but if you go, text me. I’ll sweep the area.”
“Thanks, Asher.”
He nodded once at her, then at me. “Keep her inside for a bit.”
Then he was out the door too, boots crunching on gravel until the truck rumbled to life.
And then it was just me, Harmony, and Becket immersed in three different kinds of silence.
Becket was the first to break it. “Eric, can you bring me the ethernet cable from the hall closet? The five-meter one.”
He didn’t look up. He didn’t have to. The request was deliberate, and the second I stood to get it, Harmony let out a slow breath, relief or tension, I couldn’t tell.
By the time I returned with the cable, she had moved to stand behind Becket, eyes scanning the lines of code and bouncing relay visuals on his screen.
Becket didn’t acknowledge her at first, letting her hover. Letting her look.
