“What message?”
His voice dropped. “That he’s escalating.”
My breath hitched. “And the circle he carved?”
Wolf exhaled slowly. “A progression mark. A completion of a phase.”
“What phase?”
“Surveillance.”
My heart slammed against my ribs.
“So what’s next?” I whispered.
Wolf didn’t answer right away. His eyes searched mine—steady, warm, protective—but beneath the surface, I could see the truth:
He wasn’t just worried.
He was furious.
And terrified of what might come next.
Trigger, Havoc, and Saint entered quietly, Sheriff Tate right behind them. The room filled with tension so thick I could feel it against my skin.
Trigger scratched the back of his neck. “Wolf nearly caught him, Nora.”
My breath caught. “You—what?”
Wolf’s hand slid around my lower back, as if keeping me from collapsing. “Doesn’t matter. I didn’t.”
“Damn near did,” Havoc muttered. “Man vanished like smoke.”
Saint tapped his tablet. “Footprints stopped abruptly. Intentional. He misled us.”
Sheriff Tate stepped closer. “This guy isn’t sloppy. He’s not impulsive. He’s calculating.”
Trigger nodded grimly. “A man like that doesn’t make mistakes.”
“He made one tonight,” Wolf said quietly.
Havoc raised a brow. “What mistake?”
Wolf looked at me.
And the room fell dead silent.
“He pushed her too far,” Wolf said. “And she remembered something.”
All eyes turned to me.
My mouth felt dry. “I don’t know if it matters.”
“It does,” Wolf said softly. “Anything does.”
I shook my head. “It’s just one word.”
“Say it,” Sheriff Tate urged.
