Chapter 16 Nora
Nora
By the time the Sheriff arrived, Wolf was already pacing the living room like a caged storm.
Sheriff Tate—broad-shouldered, gray-bearded, and perpetually unimpressed—stepped inside with the weary gait of a man who has dealt with both criminals and adult children for twenty years.
“Wyatt Maddox,” he grumbled. “Why am I getting calls before seven a.m. about you chasing shadows and finding porch surprises?”
Trigger perked up. “Because this shadow is real, Sheriff. REAL. And he left a token like some—some—serial killer pigeon.”
Saint corrected him. “Pigeon?”
Trigger shrugged. “I panicked.”
Sheriff Tate held out his hand. “Show me.”
Wolf placed the coin in his palm without a word.
Tate’s expression changed instantly.
The casual irritation drained from his face, replaced by something sharper. More alert.
“Well, hell,” he muttered.
Wolf’s jaw tightened. “You recognize it.”
Tate nodded once. “Seen one like it before. Years back.”
He turned the coin over. “Not common. Not friendly. Whoever left this isn’t messing around.”
My stomach dipped. “What does it mean?”
Tate glanced at Wolf before answering, like the explanation belonged more to him.
Wolf’s voice was low. Controlled. “It’s a warning.”
Tate added, “Or an invitation.”
Trigger squeaked. “I don’t like invitations unless they involve food.”
Wolf ignored him. His eyes stayed on the Sheriff. “You think it’s connected to the old cases?”
“Could be,” Tate said. “Could be something new. But either way…”
He looked at me.
“…he doesn’t do this for random people.”
A chill skittered down my spine.
“So what do we do?” I asked.
Tate sighed. “You go about your day. Normal as possible. And you—” He pointed at Wolf. “Stay glued to her like paint.”
Trigger raised a hand. “Can I be glue too?”
Saint grabbed his hand and lowered it. “No.”
Wolf nodded once. “I’m with her.”
The Sheriff slipped the coin into an evidence bag. “I’ll run this through every database I’ve got. And Wyatt—keep your head on a swivel.”
Wolf’s voice darkened. “Always.”
Tate jerked his chin at me. “Nora? You call me if anything feels off. Anything.”
“I will,” I promised.
The Sheriff left with the coin, the door shutting behind him.
Silence settled over the room.
Trigger finally exhaled dramatically. “Welp. That was terrifying. Who wants breakfast?”
Havoc grunted. “Not now, Trigger.”
Saint looked at Wolf. “You’re taking her to work.”
Wolf didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. She’s not going anywhere without me.”
I crossed my arms. “You know the library is two blocks away, right?”
Wolf looked at me like I’d said the moon was made of soup.
“You’re not walking there alone. Ever again.”
Trigger clutched his heart. “I love when he gets bossy.”
Havoc smacked the back of his head. “Stop talking.”
I grabbed my bag. “Fine. But I don’t need a military escort.”
Wolf stepped closer, lowering his voice. “You almost had someone on your porch at dawn.”
Point taken.
“Okay,” I whispered. “You can come.”
Trigger fist-pumped. “Yesss! Field trip!”
Saint glared. “You’re staying here.”
“Aww come on—”
“No.”
At the Library
The morning was crisp, the sunlight soft. People on Main Street called hello as we passed.
Normal. Safe. Ordinary.
Except nothing felt ordinary with Wolf walking beside me—tall, steady, watchful. His hand brushed mine once, barely a touch, but enough to send a warm ripple through me.
I unlocked the library door, flipped on the lights, and exhaled at the familiar scent of books and lemon cleaner.
Home.
But Wolf’s posture stayed tense.
He did a sweep of the building while I set my bag down.
When he returned, he stood at the front desk.
“All clear,” he said. But his eyes still scanned the windows. “For now.”
“For now,” I repeated quietly.
He watched me a moment more, then softened. “You okay?”
I nodded. “Actually… yes. More than I expected.”
“Good.”
He came around the counter, stopping right in front of me.
Too close.
Perfectly close.
“I meant what I said last night,” he murmured. “I’m not letting anything happen to you.”
I swallowed. “I know.”
His thumb brushed my knuckles. A small touch.
A huge reaction.
Then the door chimed.
Agnes, June, and Mabel bustled in carrying muffins, casseroles, and enough gossip to start a wildfire.
Agnes took one look at Wolf and grinned. “Well, look who didn’t go home last night.”
Havoc’s voice floated past the window: “Trigger, I swear to God, if you say one word—”
Trigger’s voice followed: “I’M NOT SAYING ANYTHING! I’M JUST OBSERVING HISTORY!”
Wolf sighed deeply.
I laughed.
And for the first time since all of this began…
…it felt like maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t facing this nightmare alone.