Right at the apartment windows.
My pulse hardened.
“Trigger, hold position inside,” I said. “Havoc, you’re with him. Saint, get me the back stairwell view.”
Nora stirred behind me. “Wolf…?”
I turned immediately. She sat up, rubbing her eyes, anxiety coloring her voice.
“What’s wrong?” she whispered.
“Nothing for you to worry about,” I said softly. “Go back to sleep.”
Her brows pinched. “That’s not comforting.”
I walked to her, kneeled beside the bed, and brushed my fingers along her arm. “I’ll handle it. Stay here.”
Her hand caught mine. “Wolf—”
“I promise,” I murmured, squeezing her fingers, “you’re safe.”
I stood, grabbed my sidearm from the dresser, and slipped into the hallway.
Saint met me there, tablet in hand.
“This angle is bad,” he said quietly, tapping the southwest feed. “Whatever it was… it’s not there anymore.”
Trigger approached, now all steel instead of jokes. “Should we sweep outside?”
“No,” I said. “Not yet.”
The guys exchanged glances—they knew exactly why.
If the stalkerwantedus to come outside, he might be baiting us.
From the window at the end of the hall, I scanned the alley again. Darkness. A few trash bins. A streetlamp flickering.
Havoc growled under his breath. “He’s out there.”
“Yeah,” I said. “He is.”
Trigger frowned. “You see him?”
“No,” I said. “But he sees us.”
Saint checked another angle. “There—movement along the wooden fence.”
A faint blur of shadow slid past the grainy footage. One frame. Just one.
But it was enough.
Trigger whispered, “He’s clocking the building.”
“Mapping it,” Havoc said.
“Studying entry points,” Saint added.
“And counting people,” I finished.
