Chapter 28 Wolf
Wolf
Saint’s voice cut out after sending the image, but the words hung heavy in the air.
A countdown.
The bastard wasn’t just leaving symbols—
He was tracking distance.
Marking steps.
Closing in.
Nora swallowed, her fingers still wrapped in mine. “What does it mean? A countdown to what?”
“To you,” I said quietly.
She flinched—not from me, but from the truth of it. I hated that. I hated that this man’s obsession was sinking claws into her life, her mind, her sleep.
But she didn’t crumble.
She lifted her chin. “Then we stay ahead of him.”
God, she had courage. It hit me harder than fear ever could.
Trigger, Havoc, and Saint entered the room a minute later, silent and alert. They spread out automatically—Trigger by the door, Havoc near the window, Saint with his tablet open.
Saint held up the enhanced footage. “Here’s the new mark.”
He zoomed in, sharpening the lines.
A vertical stroke.
A curved symbol intersecting it.
A second line, sharp and clean—freshly cut.
“It’s methodical,” Saint said. “Deliberate. Progression-based. He’s marking each approach, each risk he takes.”
Havoc crossed his arms. “He’s getting cocky.”
“No,” Trigger corrected. “He’s getting close.”
The air shifted then—a subtle change, like the room was waiting for someone else to speak.
Someone knocked once on the door.
Trigger checked the peephole. “Sheriff Tate.”
He opened the door, just enough.
The sheriff stepped inside, jaw clenched, coat still half-zipped, snow melting off his shoulders. He looked like he had sprinted here.
“We got a call,” he said without preamble. “Two of my deputies saw a vehicle driving slowly past the tavern. No plates. Too dark to catch more.”
Wolf: “Timeline?”
“Fifteen minutes ago.”
Trigger hissed out a curse.
Havoc muttered, “He’s circling.”
Tate nodded grimly. “And we found something else.”
He held out a small evidence bag.
Inside was a scrap of paper.
Folded.
Deliberate.
Thin enough to have been slipped under a door.
My pulse kicked up.
“When?” I asked.
“Five minutes ago,” Tate said. “Found by the tavern’s back delivery door.”
Trigger took the bag and held it up to the light. There was handwriting inside—small, neat, almost meticulous.
He carefully unfolded it and read aloud:
“Two down. One to go.”
The room froze.
“Two what?” Saint murmured.
“Symbols,” I said. “Steps.”
Nora’s breath stuttered, and I immediately moved closer, my hand finding her waist. “It’s alright.”
“No, it’s not,” she whispered. “He’s taking steps. He’s planning. He’s counting.”
“He’s wrong,” I said. “He’s not getting past me.”
Her voice trembled but held steady. “Wolf… I think I remember something.”
Every Ranger went still. Even Sheriff Tate.
She touched her temple, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment. “It’s like a flicker. A small moment. His voice…”
My blood went cold.
“You heard him,” I said, softer now.
“Not clearly,” she murmured. “But he said something. Months ago. Before any of this started.”
Trigger leaned forward. “Where?”
Nora swallowed hard. “The day of the break-in at the library. I told the sheriff I didn’t see anyone. I didn’t… but I heard something.”
“What?” Tate asked.
“A whisper. Just one word.”
Silence thickened like smoke.
“What word?” I asked.
Nora’s eyes opened slowly, dark with memory.
“Soon.”
Every muscle in my body locked.
Sheriff Tate cursed under his breath. “He was planning this long before the library incident.”
Saint tapped rapidly at his tablet. “I can cross-check timestamps, prior surveillance feeds—”
But Nora wasn’t hearing any of it.
She trembled again, a soft shiver that hit me in the center of my chest.
I cupped her face gently. “Nora… look at me.”
She did.
And when her eyes met mine, something cracked open between us—fear, yes, but also trust. A deep, fragile trust she didn’t give easily.
“You’re safe,” I whispered. “You’re with me. You’re with us.”
Her breath hitched. “What if he comes tonight?”
Trigger answered before I could. “Then he picked the wrong damn night.”
Havoc checked the window. “Movement.”
The entire room snapped to attention.
Sheriff Tate stepped back toward the door. “Where?”
“South side,” Havoc said. “Near the fence.”
“Same place he carved the symbol,” Saint added.
Wolf: “Saint, pull it up.”
Saint’s fingers flew, and the camera feed split across the tablet.
A shadow flickered across the far-right corner.
Tall.
Still.
Watching.
My jaw set. “That’s him.”
Sheriff Tate reached for his radio. “I’ll call backup—”
Before he finished the sentence—
A loud CRASH shook the building.
Glass.
From downstairs.
The tavern.
Trigger was the first to move. “Back window!”
Havoc grabbed his weapon. “We’re on it!”
Saint sprinted for the hallway.
Sheriff Tate followed them, barking orders into his radio.
But I stayed.
With Nora.
Her eyes were wide, chest rising in sharp, panicked breaths.
“Wolf—”
“I’m here.” I took her face in both hands. “Stay with me. Don’t move.”
She nodded shakily.
Another crash.
A thud.
Something metallic skidding across wood.
Trigger’s voice shouted from downstairs:
“MOVE! MOVE—he’s inside the yard!”
My blood turned molten.
I pulled Nora tight against me, shielding her, already moving her toward the safest corner of the room.
This wasn’t a countdown anymore.
It was a breach.
And I was done playing defense.
Because the man who was hunting her had just crossed the line—
and I was going to break him for it.