Glass.
From downstairs.
The tavern.
Trigger was the first to move. “Back window!”
Havoc grabbed his weapon. “We’re on it!”
Saint sprinted for the hallway.
Sheriff Tate followed them, barking orders into his radio.
But I stayed.
With Nora.
Her eyes were wide, chest rising in sharp, panicked breaths.
“Wolf—”
“I’m here.” I took her face in both hands. “Stay with me. Don’t move.”
She nodded shakily.
Another crash.
A thud.
Something metallic skidding across wood.
Trigger’s voice shouted from downstairs:
“MOVE! MOVE—he’s inside the yard!”
My blood turned molten.
I pulled Nora tight against me, shielding her, already moving her toward the safest corner of the room.
This wasn’t a countdown anymore.
It was a breach.
And I was done playing defense.
Because the man who was hunting her had just crossed the line—
and I was going to break him for it.
29
Wolf
The crash from downstairs echoed like a warning shot.
Trigger’s voice boomed from the yard—“HE’S IN THE BACK! MOVE!”—and every instinct I had surged to life, raw and violent.
But my first move wasn’t toward the danger.
