Purposefully placed.
And carved next to it—
Another circle.
A closed one.
Trigger whispered, “This wasn’t ‘hello.’ This was a warning.”
“No,” I said, breath turning into frost as I stared at the symbol.
My heart pounded.
“He’s telling us he’s not done.”
Havoc murmured, “Then what is he saying?”
I stared at the symbol.
At the print.
At Nora’s wide, terrified eyes behind the glass.
And I knew.
“He’s saying,” I whispered, “that the game has officially begun.”
32
Wolf
Sirens echoed faintly in the distance—backup finally closing in—but I didn’t wait for them. I forced the SUV door open with Havoc’s help, and the second the latch gave way, Nora practically fell into my arms.
She was shaking, breath fractured, eyes wide—but alive.
I pulled her against me hard, one arm around her shoulders, one cupping the back of her head.
“I’ve got you,” I murmured.
She pressed her face into my chest, fingers gripping my shirt with trembling desperation.
Sheriff Tate exhaled shakily beside us. “He was on the roof, Wolf. I heard him. Or one of them.”
I stiffened.
One of them.
Two men.
Two voices.
Two hunters.
That changed everything.
Trigger scanned the rooftops with a flashlight. “No movement now. Whoever was here cleared out fast.”
Saint’s voice crackled through my comm. “Wolf, I’m pulling street feeds—nothing on the north cameras. Whoever did this avoided the angles. Intentionally.”
