Chapter 4 - THE BACK BAY SHADOWS
By dawn, the move was complete.
Noah stood in the middle of the sprawling, sunlight-drenched living room of the Back Bay townhouse, his jaw practically touching the herringbone hardwood floor. The townhouse featured floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Charles River, a state-of-the-art kitchen, and plush velvet sofas.
“Harper...” Noah whispered, clutching his worn stuffed bear to his chest. “Are we rich now?”
Harper knelt beside him, smoothing his messy curls, her chest aching with a mixture of profound relief and overwhelming anxiety. “No, sweetie. This belongs to my boss. We’re just... staying here for a little while so you can play safely.”
Outside the front window, two tall men in dark suits stood discreetly by a black SUV parked at the curb. They were Gabriel’s men.
For the first time in three years, Harper didn't jump at the sound of a passing car engine. She didn't check the locks six times before sitting down. Noah was in the kitchen, eating fresh pancakes that Mrs. Morrison had sent along with the movers, his laughter echoing through the high-ceilinged room.
It felt like a dream. But Harper knew that in Gabriel Ashford’s world, every luxury came with a price tag.
That afternoon, while Noah was absorbed in a cartoon on the massive television, a quiet knock sounded at the front door.
Harper opened it cautiously.
Gabriel stood on the marble porch, wearing a black wool coat against the crisp Boston autumn wind. He held a leather briefcase in one hand and a small brown paper bag in the other.
“Mr. Ashford,” Harper said, stepping back to let him enter.
“How is the boy?” Gabriel asked, stepping into the foyer and taking off his coat.
“He’s... he’s happier than I’ve seen him since our mother passed,” Harper admitted honestly. “Mr. Ashford, I still don't know how to thank you—”
“Don't thank me yet,” Gabriel interrupted smoothly. He set the paper bag on the entryway table. “Painkillers and medical-grade scar ointment from my private physician. Apply it twice a day.”
Harper blinked, touched despite herself. “Thank you.”
Gabriel opened his briefcase and pulled out a thick manila folder, placing it on the kitchen island. “We have a problem.”
Harper’s pulse spiked. “Derek?”
“Lawson ran your social security number through the police database two hours ago,” Gabriel said, his face cold and sharp as glass. “He knows you left Dorchester. He’s pinging your old phone location, and he’s currently asking questions at the charity clinic where you got your ribs wrapped.”
Harper felt the room spin. She gripped the edge of the counter, her knuckles turning white. “He’s tracking me. Oh God. He’s going to find us. He told me... he told me if I ever left him, he’d put me in a pine box and make sure Noah went into state custody—”
Before she could spiral into full panic, Gabriel’s large, warm hand closed firmly around her wrist.
The touch was grounding, solid, and absolute.
“Look at me, Harper,” Gabriel commanded softly.
May you like
She forced her tear-filled eyes up to meet his amber gaze.
“Derek Lawson will never lay a finger on you or your brother again,” Gabriel said, each word spoken with absolute, terrifying certainty. “He thinks he is the law in Boston. He is about to learn that I am the climate.”
