Chapter 29 Wolf
Wolf
The crash from downstairs echoed like a warning shot.
Trigger’s voice boomed from the yard—“HE’S IN THE BACK! MOVE!”—and every instinct I had surged to life, raw and violent.
But my first move wasn’t toward the danger.
It was toward Nora.
I turned to her, gripping her shoulders gently but firmly. “Stay behind me. No matter what.”
Her hands trembled against my chest. “Wolf—don’t go out there alone.”
“I’m not,” I said. “The team’s here. Tate’s here. And you’re staying right here, where I can keep you alive.”
A flicker of fear crossed her eyes—
Not fear of the stalker.
Fear for me.
It hit harder than any threat outside.
I cupped her cheek. “Nothing is touching you,” I promised. “Nothing.”
She nodded, but barely.
I guided her to the fortified corner of the room behind the dresser, the safest line-of-sight block in the apartment. “Stay here. Do not open this door unless it’s my voice.”
“I won’t,” she whispered. “Wolf… be careful.”
“I will.”
But the truth was—I wasn’t planning on being careful.
I was planning on ending this.
I locked the door behind me and sprinted down the hallway toward the stairs.
Trigger’s boots thundered below. “HE CUT THE FENCE! HE’S IN THE ALLEY!”
Sheriff Tate shouted into his radio. “Units on route! Code red—suspect on foot!”
Saint was already at the second-floor landing, tablet in hand, flipping between outdoor feeds. “He’s fast. Too fast.”
Havoc slammed past me into the tavern kitchen, weapon drawn. “He’s headed for the shed!”
I shoved the back door open.
Cool air slapped my face.
It looked like a storm was brewing—I looked at the ground.
Footprints.
Deep.
Rushed.
Erratic.
Leading toward the fence.
Trigger crouched near the broken window. “He smashed a glass bottle to get our attention. It wasn’t to enter—it was to lure us.”
Saint muttered, “Diversion.”
“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.
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.
Mud sprayed.
Branches snapped.
For a split second—
I thought I had him.
Then—
He vanished.
Completely.
Into darkness and trees and thick, icy silence.
Trigger caught up beside me, panting. “Where the hell did he—?”
Havoc scanned the ground. “Tracks go… nowhere. They just stop.”
“He doubled back,” Saint murmured. “Or climbed. Or—”
“No,” I whispered.
Because in the silence of the woods, the wind carrying only the faint rustle of pines—
Something caught my eye.
A single footprint.
Perfect.
Deliberate.
Placed backward.
Trigger’s eyes widened. “He’s messing with us.”
“He’s calculated,” Saint said.
“He’s trained,” I corrected quietly.
And that chilled every one of them.
Because they understood what I meant.
This wasn’t a man stumbling through obsession.
This was someone with discipline.
Patience.
Stealth.
A hunter’s mind.
Trigger exhaled hard. “Wolf… we didn’t lose some amateur tonight.”
“No,” I said, staring into the dark. “We lost someone who knows exactly how to disappear.”
Havoc muttered, “And he left a message.”
Trigger turned to me. “What message?”
I looked at the scarf in my hand—
still warm from my grip—
and the crisp, fresh circle carved into the fence.
“He’s telling us the game has changed.”
I closed my fist around the scarf, fury and something sharper burning through me.
“And he’s telling me,” I murmured, “that he’s willing to get close.”
Trigger looked back toward the tavern. “We should get Nora.”
“We will,” I said, already heading back.
But inside me, something had shifted.
Before tonight, it was a chase.
Now?
Now it was a personal war.