I reached for the satellite radio and turned the volume just enough to hear the faint hiss of static. It crackled once, then steadied.
I waited.
Rylie shifted on the couch, letting out a soft sound—half sigh, half breath. I glanced at her, making sure it was just sleep, not fear dragging her under.
She was still breathing slow. Even.
Good.
I turned my focus back to the windows.
The glass reflected the inside of the cabin—firelight, shadows, me sitting like a statue that had learned to breathe. Beyond it was nothing but darkness and trees layered so thick they swallowed moonlight whole.
A place men got lost.
A place they didn’t come to unless they meant it.
The radio crackled again.
“Trigger.”
Saint’s voice was low. Controlled. That alone set my teeth on edge.
I picked it up without taking my eyes off the window. “Go.”
“We just had movement,” Saint said. “Thomas and at least three others. They were walking the streets. Looking in windows.”
My jaw tightened.
“How long?” I asked.
“Long enough,” he replied. “They didn’t touch anything. Didn’t make noise. But they were checking patterns.”
That fit.
Thomas wasn’t reckless. Not yet.
“Did he see you?” I asked.
“He saw enough,” Saint said. “He clocked me through the tavern window. Didn’t like that I was here, and knew I saw him. I’m surprised he’s waited this long to sneak around again hunting for her.”
A faint, humorless breath came through the radio. “He knows she’s gone.”
“I figured,” I said.
“He’s not panicking,” Wolf said on his comm, continued. “That’s what worries me.”
It worried me too.
Men like Thomas didn’t explode first.
Theytightened.
“Town’s locked down,” Wolf said. “Guys are rotating watch. Sheriff’s tense but holding. Nora’s contractions spaced out again—she’s resting.”
Relief flickered through me at Nora’s name.
“Good,” I said. “Keep her safe. Are all of you still up?”
