“And stopping him.”
Her lip trembled. “Wolf… I’m scared.”
I pressed my forehead to hers.
“I know. But you’re not alone. Not ever again.”
Her breath shuddered out.
I slid an arm around her waist. Held her against me. Felt her heartbeat against mine.
Then I looked over her shoulder at the guys.
Saint nodded grimly.
Havoc checked the stairwell again.
Trigger whispered, “Do we sleep in shifts? Should I camp outside the door? Should I be armed? Should I not be armed because I panic easily—?”
“No,” Havoc muttered.
Wolf turned back to Nora, voice low and final.
“I’m staying in your room tonight,” he whispered. “And the next night. And every night until this ends.”
She nodded.
“I want you there,” she said quietly.
I kissed her forehead.
Then I whispered the vow I’d already made in my mind:
“No one touches you. Not while I’m breathing.”
22
Wolf
After the button was secured in an evidence bag and Saint confirmed the cameras caughtnothingof the man who left it, the apartment shifted from tense to mission-ready.
Trigger wasn’t joking anymore.
He stood in the hallway, feet shoulder-width apart, scanning angles and sight lines like the soldier he used to be—and still was, underneath the jokes.
“Saint,” Trigger said, voice clipped, “reroute the east stairwell camera to my tablet. Motion alert sensitivity up two points.”
Saint nodded and got to work.
“Havoc,” I said, “reinforce the deadbolts on both exit doors.”
He grunted once and moved.
Nora watched all of us like she’d walked into a tactical operations center instead of a remodeled hotel floor.
Her fear was still raw… but now it was threaded with something else.
Trust.
