He reached for his radio—
Still dead.
I swallowed hard. “You said Wolf would come.”
Tate nodded, tense, scanning the shadows. “He will.”
But the way he said it told me something else:
They weren’t after Tate.
Not the SUV.
Not even the Rangers.
They were afterone thing:
Me.
Wolf
Trigger, Havoc, and I reached the north end of Main Street, weapons drawn, flashlights slicing through the shadows. Saint stayed back at the tavern, calling out movement.
“This way!” Trigger shouted. “Tracks head toward the highway!”
But my instincts screamed—
Wrong direction.
Too easy.
Too obvious.
I grabbed Havoc’s arm. “Stop. Think.”
He froze. “What?”
“They want us heading north,” I said. “They want distance between us and—”
My blood turned to ice.
“—Nora.”
Trigger’s face blanched. “Oh hell—Sheriff Tate.”
I bolted.
Past the hardware store.
Past the bakery.
Straight toward the sheriff’s parked SUV.
Trigger and Havoc were right behind me.
As soon as I rounded the corner—
I saw it.
