The streetlamp flickering out.
Sheriff Tate’s SUV was sitting dark and silent.
And a symbol smeared in frost across the windshield.
A symbol I knew too well.
But it wasn’t the symbol that made my vision tunnel—
It was the word beneath it:
HELLO
“NO!” I roared, sprinting the last ten feet.
Trigger yelled into his comm. “SAINT—GET SHERIFF BACKUP NOW!”
Havoc slammed into the driver’s side. “Sheriff! Can you hear me?!”
The doors were locked.
I pounded on the glass. “NORA! I’m here—NORA!”
A faint movement inside.
Her silhouette.
Thank God.
“NORA!” I shouted again.
She turned—
And her voice, trembling but clear, reached me through the glass.
“Wolf… they left something.”
My pulse hammered. “What? Where?!”
She pointed toward the snow beside the SUV.
Trigger angled his light.
Havoc cursed violently.
Because there in the snow—
Pressed neatly, intentionally—
Was a bootprint.
Not just any.
Military issue.
Old.
Worn.
