Chapter 32 Wolf
Wolf
Sirens echoed faintly in the distance—backup finally closing in—but I didn’t wait for them. I forced the SUV door open with Havoc’s help, and the second the latch gave way, Nora practically fell into my arms.
She was shaking, breath fractured, eyes wide—but alive.
I pulled her against me hard, one arm around her shoulders, one cupping the back of her head.
“I’ve got you,” I murmured.
She pressed her face into my chest, fingers gripping my shirt with trembling desperation.
Sheriff Tate exhaled shakily beside us. “He was on the roof, Wolf. I heard him. Or one of them.”
I stiffened.
One of them.
Two men.
Two voices.
Two hunters.
That changed everything.
Trigger scanned the rooftops with a flashlight. “No movement now. Whoever was here cleared out fast.”
Saint’s voice crackled through my comm. “Wolf, I’m pulling street feeds—nothing on the north cameras. Whoever did this avoided the angles. Intentionally.”
Havoc muttered, “These bastards know what they’re doing.”
I finally loosened my hold on Nora just enough to see her face.
“Did either of them touch you?”
“No,” she whispered. “But one of them… he tapped on the glass. Like he wanted me to know he was there.”
My jaw flexed so hard it hurt. “He’ll regret that.”
Trigger knelt in the snow near the bootprint and circle, studying it. “The tread is old. Worn. Not standard. Maybe military surplus.”
Havoc joined him. “But not random. He planted that print. Purposefully.”
Trigger nodded. “A challenge.”
“No,” I said. “A threat.”
I turned back to Nora. “We’re moving. Now.”
Tate nodded firmly. “Agreed. County bunker. I’ll escort.”
But Saint’s voice came in sharp over comms:
“Hold. Guys—you need to see this. Sending now.”
My tablet buzzed.
A new image appeared—grainy, infrared, taken from a feed near the forest edge behind the tavern.
Two figures.
One tall.
One broader.
Both dressed in dark clothing.
The taller one lifted something to his face—
A phone.
Or a radio.
Then—
He looked directly at the camera.
Even in infrared, the intensity was unmistakable.
Saint’s voice lowered. “Wolf… he knew where the cameras were. He looked straight at one like he wanted to be seen.”
Trigger’s face darkened. “Cocky bastard.”
“No,” I said. “Calculated.”
Havoc zoomed the image. “What’s in his hand?”
Saint adjusted the contrast.
A shape appeared.
Rectangular.
Thin.
Shiny.
Like a metal tag.
Nora inhaled sharply. “What is that?”
I knew.
Immediately.
Dog tags.
Old ones.
Trigger cursed. “He’s not just some stalker. He’s ex-military.”
Saint added quietly, “Or pretending to be.”
But my gut spoke louder than logic.
“Not pretending,” I said. “That footprint. The discipline. The symbols. The countdown. The partner. The way he vanished into the woods.”
Nora gripped my sleeve. “Wolf… do you know him?”
“No.” I shook my head. “But I know what he is.”
Tate stiffened. “Then say it.”
I met each of their eyes.
“He’s trained. Highly.
Not civilian.
Not random.
Not sloppy.”
I exhaled slowly.
“He’s someone who learned how to stalk, track, and vanish under pressure. Someone who learned how to manipulate terrain, cameras, and angles. Someone who understands fear and how to weaponize it.”
Trigger asked quietly, “So what are we hunting?”
I looked at the still frame again.
The dog tag.
The deliberate stance.
The mirrored angle of his partner’s step.
And the way he looked directly at the camera—
confident, fearless, taunting.
“Not one man,” I said. “A team.”
Saint swallowed. “A team of what, exactly?”
I clenched my jaw.
“A team of trained operatives.”
Nora stepped closer, voice unsteady. “Why me?”
My heart twisted at the fear behind her question.
But before I could answer—
A sheriff’s cruiser pulled up fast, Deputy Markson jumping out. “Sheriff! We found something in the woods!”
All of us turned.
“What is it?” Tate shouted.
Markson held up a bag.
Inside was a small metal object.
Wolf’s breath froze.
Trigger’s eyes widened. “Is that—?”
“A patch,” Havoc said. “Off a uniform.”
Not a current one.
Not a standard one.
Something older.
More specialized.
A unit emblem long discontinued.
My stomach dropped. “That’s Ranger insignia.”
Nora blinked. “Like… you Army Rangers?”
“Not like mine,” I said quietly.
Worse.
Tate squinted. “Wolf… what unit is that?”
I ran my thumb along the plastic, tracing the faded stitching.
“It belonged to a division dissolved over a decade ago. Ranger recon. Off-book training. Specialized pursuit teams.”
Trigger’s face went pale. “Wolf… you don’t think—”
“Oh, I do,” I growled, slipping the evidence bag into my pocket.
Nora reached for my arm. “What does that mean?”
“It means,” I said, looking directly into her eyes, “we’re not dealing with criminals.”
Saint whispered, “We’re dealing with former elite soldiers.”
Nora’s voice cracked. “Why would they come after me?”
I cupped her jaw gently. “We’re going to find out.”
Havoc stepped closer. “And when we do—”
Trigger finished for him. “We’ll bury them.”
My voice dropped to lethal calm.
“No.”
Everyone looked at me.
“We’ll end them.”