For one suspended heartbeat, neither of us moved.
Then he stepped back.
But only because he had to.
“I’ll be back later,” he said quietly. “Lock the doors. And answer when I knock.”
“I will.”
He hesitated one more moment—like walking away from me physically hurt—then strode out the door.
Trigger’s voice echoed from the yard, excited and panicked all at once.
And I stood there alone in my living room…
trying to catch the breath Wolf Maddox had stolen.
11
Wolf
Trigger was pacing outside Nora’s house like a guy with too much coffee in his bloodstream when I walked out.
“There you are!” he yelled. “Dude—DUDE—you need to see this.”
“Trigger, can we remember we are Army Rangers and we don’t jump around yelling DUDE.”
Saint stood beside the truck, tablet in hand, jaw tight. Havoc hovered, as if he were ready to fight the camera itself.
Saint handed me the screen.
“Footage from last night,” he said quietly. “North Main. The camera caught movement around 12:14 a.m.”
I pressed play.
A tall shadow moved near the water tower, too far for a face, but close enough that the gait, the posture, the way he turned his head—
He waswatching.
Then he stepped off the sidewalk.
Right toward Nora’s street.
Trigger whispered, “Tell me that’s not what I think it is.”
“It’s him,” I said, voice low and cold. “Same boot size. Same direction. Same timing.”
Saint swiped to the next clip.
My pulse hammered.
The figure paused across from Nora’s yard.
Just stood there.
Watching her front door.
Even through grainy footage, menace bled from him like smoke.
