Romans & histoires Harper Murphy

She laughs, “It’s totally cool Wyatt. We can just be friends. Like we always were.” I sigh in relief, “Thanks for that. I could really use a friend right now.” Harper takes a seat at the island counter. “What’s going on?” She asks me. “I’m leaving here tomorrow morning. I took a position as a live in house manger for a repugnant man out in the country.”

I forgot what it was like to function without alcohol and honestly, without Declan, the pack could have been a whole mess. Back then, it was like the will to live have eluded me, sounded like some fantasy that I could never live. And then on one of those nights when I was particularly drunk in the pack in the bar, I saw Harper… she used to have a mate that physically abused her, and that night she killed him and she was here to drink her sorrows one final time before she ended it all. We were like two sides of the same coin, two fragments of one soul that found each other that night.

"The Moon pack. I believe those three bodies belong to the sons of their alpha. It won't be fun giving him the news his sons are dead." Saint wasn't surprised. The sons of the Moon's packs alpha seemed a bit whack-in-the-head. Two of them had been checking out Harper, and the one named Julian had been a total swine. Saint had meant to beat him to a pulp, but Harper handled the situation herself. His mate surprised him at every turn. Harper was an extraordinary woman. It was surprising that she was a werewolf. Saint didn't usually like her kind, but he was falling for Harper. Saint calmly walked into the kitchen and used his powers to prepare a luxurious breakfast for Harper. He called forth

"I think you should be celebrating. You're finally getting a mate! Well, sort of. I heard Quinn is completely deformed. Scars all over his face. He’s looking for a docile, pathetic little wife to just shut up and be obedient. You fit the role perfectly. A match made in heaven." "I said get out!" I yelled. Harper just laughed, a high, grating sound. "You deserve this, Neralda. You’ve always acted like you’re so much better than everyone else in this pack. Have fun being a punching bag for a feral monster." "You know what?" I gritted my teeth, wiping the stray tear from my face. "I don't have the time for this. I don't have the time for you." Harper rolled her eyes, flicking a piece of lint of

I watch from the kitchen, stirring sauce on the stove, wondering how the hell I got so lucky to have this tiny, chaotic ray of sunshine in my life. “So,” I say over dinner, “how was California?” Harper sighs dramatically, twirling her fork through her pasta. “Oh, you know. Fancy restaurants, ridiculous shopping trips, billionaires being billionaires.” I grin. “Sounds terrible.” “It was,” she says with mock seriousness. “I barely survived.” She pauses, her smile fading just slightly. “Actually, there was… one thing.” I set my fork down. “What happened?” She tugs her bottom lip between her teeth, a sure sign she’s nervous. “Rafe’s teammate,” she says slowly. “Jeff McNaught.”

"It's alright, that's not why I called. I applied the teachings that Mama gave us and got myself out. But I have a problem and you're the only one who can help me with it." "Anything for you. What's going on?" "Harper ruined everything for me. She told Elijah everything that she knew about Dylan and me. It was her fault that I lost my baby and Elijah. I can't let her get away with it, Kathrine. She has to pay for ruining my life and getting me into an asylum." "I know people who can get rid of her." "No. I don't want her death to be easy. I want her to feel every pain that my child felt when I lost him. She has to know every pain I felt in that crazy place. And then she can die."

she said crudely. “Matteo? He’s not Indian, he’s Wolastoqiyik” I corrected her. “Even in your state of despair you feel the need to correct me, honestly Harper, does it matter?” she asked, exasperated with me, and pushing me into the cold shower. I yelped and sobered up quickly as Lane washed my hair with care. “Lane... I lost my baby” I sobbed.

Harper I hit the ground on the other side wrong, ankle twisting sharp under me with this pop that makes me yelp “fuck fuck fuck” loud enough that a couple birds scatter, and I’m hobbling there cursing Elias for every single thing he’s ever done to my body when this girl comes running up from the parking lot edge, all wide-eyed and helpful like she’s been waiting for drama. “Harper? Oh my god, are you okay? That looked bad, here let me…” It’s Lauren, the kind one from my old psych class who always shared notes and smiled too much, and I don’t trust her for shit because what if Elias planted her, what if this is another spy like Sophia, but my ankle is throbbing and I’m already late on my wind

I believed she was weak, breakable, and easy to discard. But now? Now she was connected to the Harrisons. Now she had leverage. Now she had a name that carried weight—Harrison. That name burned in my thoughts. FreyaHarrison. The missing daughter. The golden child. The key to power Malum had been chasing for years. Freya didn’t even know it yet—not fully. And that ignorance was the only reason she was still breathing comfortably, still smiling hopefully at Malum like a fool who believed affection meant safety.

Beneath it: ELIAN. I tried to do what Dad always recommended during a crisis. Separate what I knew from what I feared. What I knew was simple. The human woman standing in front of us was Harper Vale. She had arrived in Saint River three weeks earlier to investigate irregularities in adoption records. She had no known supernatural background. She had reported two officials for altering minors’ files and, according to Liv, had refused three invitations to work with Bridges of Life because she insisted on maintaining institutional independence. What I feared was much bigger.