Chapter 21 Wolf
Wolf
The second the footsteps vanished and the hallway went still, instinct took over.
I tapped my comm button—Saint had insisted we all wear them while Nora was in danger—and spoke low, controlled, deadly calm.
“Code Gray. Upstairs. Now.”
Saint’s voice crackled instantly. “On my way.”
Havoc: “Coming up the back stairwell.”
Trigger: “SHOULD I brING A WEAPON OR SNACKS—WAIT—WEAPON! I MEANT WEAPON!”
I kept one arm around Nora, still trembling in my hold. She wasn’t crying. She wasn’t panicking. But she was shaking—quiet, subtle tremors that hit me harder than any enemy fire ever had.
“It’s okay,” I murmured into her hair, kissing the top of her head once. “You’re safe. I swear it.”
She nodded against my chest, voice barely a whisper. “He was right there, Wolf. Right outside the door.”
“I know.” My jaw tightened. “He won’t get that close again.”
Footsteps thundered up both staircases.
Saint appeared first, armed and intense. Havoc came right behind him like a moving wall.
Trigger was last, holding a baseball bat in one hand and a granola bar in the other.
“What happened?” Saint demanded.
“He tried the door,” I said. “Scratched it. Knocked once. Then disappeared.”
Saint swore under his breath and moved to check the hallway camera feed from a tablet strapped to his wrist.
Havoc inspected the doorknob, then crouched low, examining the seam where the door met the floor.
“No footprints,” he muttered. “No markings. But someone definitely touched it. Look at this scratch.”
Trigger looked at the scratch. “This is so weird. How did he get past the alarm systems?”
Saint’s face darkened as he reviewed footage. “Whatever he did, he knew where the blind spot was. He stayed out of camera range.”
Of course he had.
That son of a bitch was learning the building. Mabe he’s been in here before we took over.
Nora slowly pulled away from me—not far, just enough to breathe—and whispered, “Maybe… maybe he left something.”
I turned sharply. “Nora, wait—”
She slipped past me into the hallway before I could grab her.
“Nora!” I lunged after her.
She paused only a few steps from the door, staring down at something on the floor near the end of the landing.
A tiny shape.
Barely visible in the dim hall light.
Her breath hitched. “Wolf… what is that?”
I reached her in seconds, putting my body between her and the object. “Don’t touch it.”
Saint and Havoc rushed over. Trigger hung back with the bat raised like he was expecting a ghost to leap out.
The object was small.
Round.
Dark.
Saint crouched with a penlight.
“What is it?” Nora whispered.
He angled the light.
My pulse slammed in my veins.
It was a button.
A simple plastic button… but not hers.
It was covered in dirt.
Grime.
And—
Havoc leaned closer. “Is that… blood?”
A smear—tiny, but unmistakably dark like dried blood—streaked the rim.
Trigger gagged.
Saint ignored him. “He dropped this on purpose.”
Nora’s voice cracked. “Why?”
Havoc’s tone went cold. “Message.”
My chest tightened. It wasn’t the button itself. It was the placement.
Right outside her room.
Where she sleeps.
Where we sleep.
I walked into my room, grabbed a glove, carefully lifted the button, and dropped it into an evidence bag.
Saint narrowed his eyes. “Wolf… look at the back.”
I flipped it.
Lettering curved along the inside rim.
Worn.
Faded.
But readable.
RIDGEMONT COUNTY CORRECTIONAL FACILITY.
Nora gasped. “Is that—?”
“Yes,” I said, voice turning to steel. “It’s a prison uniform button.”
Trigger yelped, “HE’S A PRISON GUY?! LIKE—AN ESCAPED PRISON GUY?!”
“No,” Saint said quietly. “This came from a correctional officer's uniform.”
I finished the sentence for him:
“He works at a prison and has never gotten caught. My guess is he learns everything from the prisoners.”
Silence.
Long.
Heavy.
Terrifying silence.
Nora wrapped her arms around herself, pale and shaking.
I stepped in front of her instantly, cupping her face with one hand, steadying her with the other.
“Listen to me,” I said softly but firmly. “This isn’t a coincidence. He’s escalating faster. That means he’s losing control. That also means we’re close.”
She swallowed hard. “Close to what?”
“Finding him,” I said.
“And stopping him.”
Her lip trembled. “Wolf… I’m scared.”
I pressed my forehead to hers.
“I know. But you’re not alone. Not ever again.”
Her breath shuddered out.
I slid an arm around her waist. Held her against me. Felt her heartbeat against mine.
Then I looked over her shoulder at the guys.
Saint nodded grimly.
Havoc checked the stairwell again.
Trigger whispered, “Do we sleep in shifts? Should I camp outside the door? Should I be armed? Should I not be armed because I panic easily—?”
“No,” Havoc muttered.
Wolf turned back to Nora, voice low and final.
“I’m staying in your room tonight,” he whispered. “And the next night. And every night until this ends.”
She nodded.
“I want you there,” she said quietly.
I kissed her forehead.
Then I whispered the vow I’d already made in my mind:
“No one touches you. Not while I’m breathing.”