Chapter 25 Nora
Nora
Iwoke to the sound of footsteps.
Not hurried.
Not loud.
But purposeful.
The kind of footsteps that didn’t belong in a place where men usually joked, bickered, or stomped around like they were still in combat boots.
These were quiet.
Controlled.
Alert.
I blinked, the room still dark, the sheets warm from Wolf’s body heat. The impression of him remained in the mattress—solid, steady, protective—even though he wasn’t beside me anymore.
My chest tightened.
Not from fear.
From the sudden, acute ache of missing him the second he stepped away.
Another sound drifted in.
A soft murmur of voices down the hall.
Low. Urgent. Serious.
I pushed the covers back and sat up, rubbing my eyes. The nightmare felt like it had happened hours ago, but my pulse quickened all over again.
Something was wrong.
I stood and padded to the door, cracking it open just enough to see the hallway.
Wolf stood near the window at the end of the hall, half in shadow, half in the weak glow from the streetlamp outside. Trigger, Havoc, and Saint flanked him, all stone-faced, all studying the monitors and the dark street below with a tension so thick it raised the hairs on my arms.
Wolf’s posture was rigid—shoulders squared, jaw flexed, hand resting on the weapon holstered at his hip.
Every inch of him radiated the same message:
Danger. Close.
Before I could stop myself, my voice slipped out:
“Wolf?”
He turned immediately.
Not startled.
Not annoyed.
But with a quick, fierce alertness—like my voice was the thing he was listening for.
He closed the distance to me in three long strides.
“Nora,” he murmured, smoothing a hand down my arm. “You should be in bed.”
“Something’s wrong,” I whispered.
His eyes softened, but the tension beneath them didn’t ease. “We’re handling it.”
Trigger stepped behind him, giving me a quick nod—reassuring, even though it didn’t reach his eyes.
Saint lifted the tablet he always clutched. “We had outside movement. Southwest corner. Unidentified.”
Unidentified.
Not animal.
Not accidental.
Human.
My stomach dipped.
Wolf angled his body slightly, subtly shielding me from the others—and from the window.
“It might be nothing,” he said.
But his voice…
It wasn’t convinced.
“Is it him?” I whispered.
Wolf didn’t answer right away. And the silence was enough to make my heart thud painfully.
Trigger cleared his throat. “We’re tightening security. No one’s getting in here.”
Wolf stepped closer, lowering his voice so only I could hear.
“I need you to stay close to me. That’s the only thing that matters right now.”
A shiver went down my spine—not just fear, but the low, deep warmth of hearing how much he meant it.
“What did you see?” I asked.
His jaw clenched. “A shadow watching the windows.”
My breath hitched. “Watching… me?”
Wolf didn’t say yes.
He didn’t have to.
Because the next second, Trigger stepped closer, expression grim. “Wolf, show her.”
Wolf shot him a look, not wanting to. But after a moment, he took the tablet Saint handed over and angled it toward me.
I leaned in.
The footage was grainy, dark, but clear enough to see what mattered:
A tall silhouette near the alley.
Motionless.
Facing upward.
Facing this building.
Facing… my window.
My blood chilled.
Wolf saw it—felt it—because his hand slid instinctively to my waist, grounding me.
“He’s not getting in here,” Wolf said, voice low and dangerous. “Not tonight. Not ever.”
My fingers curled lightly into his shirt. “Why is he doing this?”
“Control,” Saint murmured.
“Obsession,” Havoc growled.
“Because he’s a coward,” Trigger added.
Wolf’s hand tightened on my waist. “Because he thinks he understands you.”
The words sent a tremor through me.
“Thinks,” Wolf repeated, darker now. “Not knows. He doesn’t know you. He doesn’t get near you. He doesn’t breathe the same air as you unless I say so.”
I swallowed hard. “And you’re staying here?”
Wolf’s gaze softened. “I’m not leaving your side.”
A beat passed—warm, charged, frightening, and comforting all at once.
Then—
A knock cracked through the silence.
All four Rangers whipped around, weapons partially lifted, muscles coiling.
Wolf stepped in front of me instantly.
Trigger positioned himself between the door and the stairwell.
Saint checked the monitors.
Havoc braced like a wall.
“Who is it?” I whispered, heart slamming.
Saint squinted at the feed, then exhaled. “Sheriff Tate.”
Another knock. Firmer.
Wolf didn’t move, not until he had eyes on the sheriff through the peephole and confirmed he was alone.
Only then did he open the door a few inches.
Sheriff Tate’s stern face appeared under the hallway light. His eyes flicked around, taking in the tension, the weapons, Wolf’s stance.
“Someone want to explain why my phone lit up with a motion alert and one of my deputies reported a male figure loitering on Main Street at three in the morning?”
Wolf didn’t step aside. “We saw him too.”
Sheriff Tate’s expression tightened. “Same build as the guy you’re hunting?”
Wolf didn’t glance back at me, but his voice was steady steel.
“Yeah. And he’s getting bolder.”
The sheriff exhaled. “Then we’re escalating.”
Trigger stepped forward. “To what level?”
Sheriff Tate met Wolf’s eyes. “To full threat protocol.”
My breath caught.
Wolf’s gaze hardened. “Then we’ll be ready.”
Sheriff Tate nodded once, slow and serious.
“That’s why I came,” he said. “Because whatever’s happening—it’s just beginning.”