Because the next second, Trigger stepped closer, expression grim. “Wolf, show her.”
Wolf shot him a look, not wanting to. But after a moment, he took the tablet Saint handed over and angled it toward me.
I leaned in.
The footage was grainy, dark, but clear enough to see what mattered:
A tall silhouette near the alley.
Motionless.
Facing upward.
Facing this building.
Facing… my window.
My blood chilled.
Wolf saw it—felt it—because his hand slid instinctively to my waist, grounding me.
“He’s not getting in here,” Wolf said, voice low and dangerous. “Not tonight. Not ever.”
My fingers curled lightly into his shirt. “Why is he doing this?”
“Control,” Saint murmured.
“Obsession,” Havoc growled.
“Because he’s a coward,” Trigger added.
Wolf’s hand tightened on my waist. “Because he thinks he understands you.”
The words sent a tremor through me.
“Thinks,” Wolf repeated, darker now. “Not knows. He doesn’t know you. He doesn’t get near you. He doesn’t breathe the same air as you unless I say so.”
I swallowed hard. “And you’re staying here?”
Wolf’s gaze softened. “I’m not leaving your side.”
A beat passed—warm, charged, frightening, and comforting all at once.
Then—
A knock cracked through the silence.
All four Rangers whipped around, weapons partially lifted, muscles coiling.
Wolf stepped in front of me instantly.
Trigger positioned himself between the door and the stairwell.
Saint checked the monitors.
Havoc braced like a wall.
“Who is it?” I whispered, heart slamming.
