His expression hardened. “Where did—”
“Here,” Trigger answered. “On purpose.”
Tate turned to his radio. “All units—suspect is escalating. Search perimeter now.”
Havoc pointed to the far end of the alley. “Tracks leading north.”
Saint checked the camera feed. “He’s moving—fast. He’s out of view.”
“Not for long,” I growled.
I took off down the alley, my boots crunching through mud and leaves, lungs burning with cold and fury. I followed the tracks until they veered toward the tree line.
Then—
Something moved.
A flicker of shadow between the pines.
I didn’t think.
I broke into a sprint.
“WOLF!” Trigger shouted behind me. “WAIT—YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT’S OUT…”
But I was already in the trees, the branches scattering around me like shrapnel. My pulse roared.
A silhouette darted ahead—
Tall.
Fast.
Purposeful.
My muscles coiled.
I launched forward.
“STOP!” I bellowed.
The figure didn’t stop.
He slipped behind a fallen log, boots crunching, and I pushed harder, closing the distance—
Close enough to see him turn his head.
Not his face.
Not details.
Just the hint of movement—
A man aware he was being hunted, and enjoying the chase.
My breath steamed out like smoke, the temperature falling.
I lunged.
