“But he was right there,” I whispered shakily. “At our door.”
Wolf’s hold tightened.
“And he’s never getting that close again.”
His voice wasn’t gentle now.
It was a vow.
Low.
Deadly.
Final.
I buried my face against his chest as his heart hammered beneath my cheek, and for the first time, I heard fear inhim.
Not for himself.
For me.
21
Wolf
The second the footsteps vanished and the hallway went still, instinct took over.
I tapped my comm button—Saint had insisted we all wear them while Nora was in danger—and spoke low, controlled, deadly calm.
“Code Gray. Upstairs. Now.”
Saint’s voice crackled instantly. “On my way.”
Havoc: “Coming up the back stairwell.”
Trigger: “SHOULD I BRING A WEAPON OR SNACKS—WAIT—WEAPON! I MEANT WEAPON!”
I kept one arm around Nora, still trembling in my hold. She wasn’t crying. She wasn’t panicking. But she wasshaking—quiet, subtle tremors that hit me harder than any enemy fire ever had.
“It’s okay,” I murmured into her hair, kissing the top of her head once. “You’re safe. I swear it.”
She nodded against my chest, voice barely a whisper. “He was right there, Wolf. Right outside the door.”
“I know.” My jaw tightened. “He won’t get that close again.”
Footsteps thundered up both staircases.
Saint appeared first, armed and intense. Havoc came right behind him like a moving wall.
Trigger was last, holding a baseball bat in one hand and a granola bar in the other.
“What happened?” Saint demanded.
“He tried the door,” I said. “Scratched it. Knocked once. Then disappeared.”
Saint swore under his breath and moved to check the hallway camera feed from a tablet strapped to his wrist.
Havoc inspected the doorknob, then crouched low, examining the seam where the door met the floor.
