“Trap,” Havoc corrected.
“No,” I growled, already stalking toward the alley. “A challenge.”
The wind kicked up again, carrying the scent of cedar, winter, and something acrid—metallic.
Blood.
Trigger jogged beside me. “Wolf, slow down. He’s playing games—”
But I didn’t slow.
I reached the fence line and froze.
There—carved freshly into the wood—was another symbol.
Not a line.
Not a tally.
A circle.
Closed.
Complete.
Trigger’s breath caught. “That’s not part of a countdown.”
Saint arrived, staring at it. “It’s a loop. Closed circuit. It means—”
“He was here,” I said. “And he thinks he’s completed something.”
Havoc kicked mud away from the base of the fence. “Wolf… you need to see this.”
I walked over—
And felt something twist in my gut.
A scarf.
Neatly folded.
Tucked beneath the loose board.
Cream-colored.
Nora’s.
Trigger swore. “How the hell did he get that?”
“He didn’t,” I said darkly. “He took it. Earlier. When he was close enough.”
Saint’s voice wavered on the wind. “He’s telling us he can touch her life.”
“I’m telling him he’s done.” My voice came out low, lethal.
Sheriff Tate jogged up, breath steaming. “Report?”
I held up the scarf.
