Wolf’s hand slid behind him until it found mine — gripping, anchoring — and without looking at me he said, in a voice that could kill:
“Don’t you dare answer him.”
The voice came again, closer this time.
“Nora… we’ve waited a long time.”
My blood turned to ice.
Wolf’s entire body vibrated with rage. “Trigger, Havoc — when they come through that door, you fire on my mark.”
Sheriff Tate set his stance. “We’ll stop them here.”
But Saint looked up from his screen, face suddenly pale.
“Guys,” he whispered. “There’s a third signature on the cameras.”
Trigger froze. “A third?”
“Where?” Wolf asked.
Saint swallowed.
“Inside… the building.”
Wolf’s eyes snapped to me instantly.
Not looking at the door.
Looking past me.
“Nora,” he said quietly.
My breath hitched. “Wolf—?”
His voice dropped to a level of deadly calm I had never heard before.
“Don’t turn around.”
35
Wolf
“N
ora,” I repeated, voice low, lethal.
“Don’t turn around.”
But her breath hitched—
a tiny, terrified shock of air—
because she heard it too.
A shift of weight.
A faint scrape of boot on concrete.
