Chapter 31 Wolf
Wolf
The hallway exploded into motion the second that deputy’s voice came through the radio.
Trigger moved first.
Havoc right behind him.
Saint already calling up live drone feeds.
Sheriff Tate barking for units to converge on Main Street.
But I only focused on one thing.
Nora.
She stood frozen near the bed, clutching the scarf like it was the only thing tethering her to the ground. Her knuckles were white, her breathing shallow, but her eyes—steady, locked onto me—held something fierce beneath the fear.
I crossed the room in two strides.
“You’re going with Sheriff Tate,” I said, grabbing her coat with one hand and shrugging it over her shoulders. “He’ll take you to the county office. That’s the safest place right now.”
“No,” Nora whispered.
I froze. “Nora—”
“No.” Her hand curled into my shirt, gripping hard. “Don’t send me away.”
“That’s not what I’m doing.”
“It feels like it.”
I swallowed, hating—hating—that she was right.
Wolf, hardened operative, man who lived for control and order…
felt something unravel at the idea of her out of sight.
But the math was the math.
“Nora… if there are two men out there—”
“There are. Maybe more.”
“Then you’re a target times two, or more.”
She lifted her chin. “Then don’t send me somewhere without you.”
The words hit my chest like a blunt force blow.
I lowered my forehead to hers. “I know. I know. But Tate has a secure bunker beneath the station. No one gets past that without being noticed.”
She hesitated.
Just for a breath.
Then nodded. “Okay. But come find me. Soon.”
“I will.”
A promise.
A vow.
Havoc’s voice echoed down the hall. “WOLF! MOVE!”
I kissed Nora’s forehead—brief, instinctive, not romantic but more intimate than anything I’d ever done—and pressed her into Tate’s waiting arms. It started snowing, and it looked like a blizzard was coming.
“Get her there,” I growled. “No stops. No detours.”
Sheriff Tate nodded tightly. “You have my word.”
Nora didn’t fight, but her fingers brushed mine as he guided her into the hall… and letting go felt like tearing off a piece of my own ribs.
Trigger slapped my arm as he passed. “Come on, lover boy. Time to hunt.”
I exhaled roughly. “Let’s find them.”
Nora
Sheriff Tate was a wall of determination beside me, sweeping me down the stairs and out the side door to his SUV. Snow crunched under our boots, Main Street glowing faintly beneath flickering lamps.
But something felt wrong.
The kind of wrong that wasn’t loud—but cold.
Quiet.
Patient.
Tate opened the passenger door. “Get in.”
I hesitated, glancing toward the dark alley beside the tavern. “Sheriff… do you hear that?”
He paused.
Listened.
The night was still. Too still.
“No engines,” he said. “No footsteps.”
“No wind,” I whispered.
His eyes narrowed. “Get inside. Now.”
I obeyed, sliding into the seat and buckling in, my heart pounding hard enough to bruise my ribs. Tate got in the driver’s side and locked the doors, hands gripping the wheel.
He radioed dispatch.
“Unit 12 en route. Passenger secure.”
Static.
Then: “Copy. Units in pursuit of two figures heading northbound—”
The radio cut out.
Just—
dead silence.
Sheriff Tate tapped it, frowning. “What the—?”
My breath fogged the window. “Sheriff…?”
The streetlamp beside us flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then died, plunging Main Street into deep shadow.
A chill crawled down my spine. “That’s not a coincidence.”
“No,” he muttered. “It’s not.”
The SUV’s heater hummed, the only sound.
Until—
A soft tapping.
On the glass.
Right beside my door.
I jumped, slapping a hand over my mouth. Tate reached for his weapon, leaning over to shield me with his body.
His voice was a harsh whisper. “Stay down.”
I crouched lower, adrenaline buzzing like electricity in my veins. “Is it them?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I can’t see anyone.”
The tapping stopped.
Silence pulsed between heartbeats.
Then—
A light scraping sound traveled across the roof.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Like something—or someone—dragged metal across metal.
Tate cursed under his breath. “Damn it, Wolf was right. Multiple suspects, different positions.”
I blinked rapidly, my breath puffing in white clouds. “Sheriff—look.”
He followed my gaze to the windshield.
A smear.
Not random.
Someone had dragged their finger across the frost.
Leaving behind a shape:
A curve.
A line.
And another.
A new symbol.
Fresh.
And underneath it, a word written in clean, careful letters:
HELLO
My blood froze.
Sheriff Tate reached for the ignition. “We’re moving. Now.”
But the engine didn’t start.
He tried again.
Click.
Click.
Nothing.
“They cut the power,” he growled. “They were waiting.”
He reached for his radio—
Still dead.
I swallowed hard. “You said Wolf would come.”
Tate nodded, tense, scanning the shadows. “He will.”
But the way he said it told me something else:
They weren’t after Tate.
Not the SUV.
Not even the Rangers.
They were after one thing:
Me.
Wolf
Trigger, Havoc, and I reached the north end of Main Street, weapons drawn, flashlights slicing through the shadows. Saint stayed back at the tavern, calling out movement.
“This way!” Trigger shouted. “Tracks head toward the highway!”
But my instincts screamed—
Wrong direction.
Too easy.
Too obvious.
I grabbed Havoc’s arm. “Stop. Think.”
He froze. “What?”
“They want us heading north,” I said. “They want distance between us and—”
My blood turned to ice.
“—Nora.”
Trigger’s face blanched. “Oh hell—Sheriff Tate.”
I bolted.
Past the hardware store.
Past the bakery.
Straight toward the sheriff’s parked SUV.
Trigger and Havoc were right behind me.
As soon as I rounded the corner—
I saw it.
The streetlamp flickering out.
Sheriff Tate’s SUV was sitting dark and silent.
And a symbol smeared in frost across the windshield.
A symbol I knew too well.
But it wasn’t the symbol that made my vision tunnel—
It was the word beneath it:
HELLO
“NO!” I roared, sprinting the last ten feet.
Trigger yelled into his comm. “SAINT—GET SHERIFF BACKUP NOW!”
Havoc slammed into the driver’s side. “Sheriff! Can you hear me?!”
The doors were locked.
I pounded on the glass. “NORA! I’m here—NORA!”
A faint movement inside.
Her silhouette.
Thank God.
“NORA!” I shouted again.
She turned—
And her voice, trembling but clear, reached me through the glass.
“Wolf… they left something.”
My pulse hammered. “What? Where?!”
She pointed toward the snow beside the SUV.
Trigger angled his light.
Havoc cursed violently.
Because there in the snow—
Pressed neatly, intentionally—
Was a bootprint.
Not just any.
Military issue.
Old.
Worn.
Purposefully placed.
And carved next to it—
Another circle.
A closed one.
Trigger whispered, “This wasn’t ‘hello.’ This was a warning.”
“No,” I said, breath turning into frost as I stared at the symbol.
My heart pounded.
“He’s telling us he’s not done.”
Havoc murmured, “Then what is he saying?”
I stared at the symbol.
At the print.
At Nora’s wide, terrified eyes behind the glass.
And I knew.
“He’s saying,” I whispered, “that the game has officially begun.”