Chapter 43 Wolf
Wolf
Ifelt it before anyone said a word.
Eagle River had a rhythm—small, steady, predictable. Even with tourists drifting through in summer and snowmobilers cutting through in winter, the town moved like it trusted itself.
That rhythm was off.
It wasn’t obvious. No alarms. No flashing lights. Just small things that didn’t line up.
The gas station clerk didn’t joke with Ace the way he usually did. A woman across the street paused mid-sentence when she saw us coming, then smiled too brightly. A patrol cruiser idled longer than necessary near the tavern before moving on.
None of it was hostile.
All of it was wrong.
Havoc met me outside the tavern, arms crossed, posture loose but eyes sharp.
“You’re seeing it too,” he said.
“Yeah.”
He tipped his chin toward Main Street. “Sheriff’s office got a tip this morning. Anonymous. Nothing actionable, but enough to stir questions.”
“About us.”
“About Trigger,” he corrected. “Specifically.”
I exhaled slowly. “Thomas.”
“Has his fingerprints all over it,” Havoc agreed. “Just not where we can prove it.”
We stepped inside the tavern. It should’ve been busy—lunch hour, locals grabbing burgers, the usual hum of voices.
Instead, it was half-full. Conversations dipped when we passed. Eyes tracked longer than they should’ve.
Not fear.
Unease.
My words echoed in my head.
Men like Thomas don’t stop when they lose.
Saint came up behind us, lowering his voice. “Bank flagged two accounts. Temporary freeze. I’m working it.”
That settled it.
This wasn’t coincidence.
This was pressure.
I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to slow down. Anger was exactly what Thomas wanted. A rash move. A visible reaction.
I wouldn’t give him one.
“Any word on Rylie?” I asked.
“She’s fine,” Saint said. “At the cabin. Wolf checked in—Nora and the baby are good.”
Good.
At least Thomas hadn’t crossed that line.
Yet.
I moved to the window and scanned the street outside. People went about their day. Kids on bikes. A couple holding hands. Normal life continuing like it always had.
That was the danger.
Thomas wasn’t attacking us.
He was attacking the space around us.
“Security stays quiet,” I said. “No posturing. No intimidation. We don’t become the threat.”
Havoc nodded. “And Rylie?”
I hesitated.
That was the real problem.
“She doesn’t leave the cabin unless necessary,” I said. “But we don’t tell her why. Not yet.”
Saint frowned. “She’ll notice.”
“I know.”
And when she did, she’d draw conclusions that would hurt worse than the truth.
I turned back toward the bar, eyes scanning the room one more time.
Thomas thought he was isolating us.
What he didn’t understand was that Rangers didn’t break under pressure.
We adapted.
We closed ranks.
And when the time came—
We hit back.
Hard.