Wolf crouched. Reached out.
Picked up the object with two fingers.
He turned it over.
Saint’s brows furrowed. “Is that…?”
Wolf’s jaw locked as he held it up for the others to see.
Trigger leaned in. “Is that a—HOLY CRAP—”
Havoc swore under his breath. “Creepy bastard.”
I couldn’t see what it was.
Not until Wolf came back inside and placed it gently on the table.
My breath froze.
It was acoin.
A dull silver coin with a stamped symbol:
A wolf.
Trigger whispered, “Dude. He left you guys… a personalized death token.”
Saint nodded grimly. “He knows Wolf’s call sign. Or reputation. Or past.”
Havoc folded his arms. “This is targeted. And taunting.”
Wolf said nothing.
He just stared at that coin like he knew exactly what it meant.
Or feared he did.
I stepped close, touching his arm. “What does it mean?”
Wolf looked at me then—finally—and something raw flickered in his eyes.
“It means,” he said quietly, “he’s not just watching.
He’s marking territory.”
Trigger squeaked. “LIKE A COYOTE?”
“No,” Wolf said. His voice darkened. “Like a stalker.”
The room fell silent.
Saint cleared his throat. “We need to update the Sheriff. And get more cameras.”
Havoc nodded. “And Wolf’s staying here until this guy is found.”
Trigger raised a hand. “And I’m sleeping with the lights on for the next five years.”
Wolf exhaled slowly, looked down at the coin again…
