Chapter 4 #2
The temperature between them seemed charged. Anticipatory. Neither said a word. They just…stared at each other.
“Then I’ll refrain from making any further ones about you,” she said, sneaking his broken cookie.
Wolf was quiet for another moment, then he relaxed slightly and chuckled. “Your assumptions might be accurate. I suspect you’re so good at your job that profiling people like me comes easy.”
Her cheeks heated at the compliment. Then they heated even more from embarrassment. What was wrong with her? People told her all the time that she was an expert at her job, at profiling. Why did the words coming from him seem to carry so much more weight?
She wanted to ask how he could be so sure she was good at her job. They’d known each other for less than a day. But the moment felt fragile, and she didn’t want to break it. “What about before the Navy?” she asked instead. “You have family?”
He tensed again. Sore topic. “Dad was military. He taught me to shoot when I was eight, and he and Mom divorced when I was ten. Mom remarried and moved to D.C. when I was a teenager. I stayed with my dad in Virginia.”
“That must have been hard.”
“It was what it was.”
Deflecting. She recognized the tactic. “Any siblings?”
The pause was too long. His hand tightened around his mug. “A sister,” he said finally. “Half-sister, technically. I rarely got to see her.”
“Where is she now? Does she live around here?”
His throat worked. He gripped the handle of his mug tighter. “She passed when I was still a teenager.”
Claire’s chest went tight. She’d meant to create an easy rapport with him, not dredge up bad memories.
“I’m so sorry.” She knew that pain. Knew what it meant to lose someone young.
To spend the rest of your life wondering if you could have saved them.
“What was her name?” The question came out before she could stop it.
Wolf’s jaw clenched. He cleared his throat and looked away. “What about you?” His voice was rough now. “What made you join the FBI?”
She’d gone too far. He wanted to turn the spotlight off himself. Fair enough.
“My best friend Lily was murdered when we were fourteen. We’d been friends since we were in second grade.
She was... everything. Bright, funny, fearless.
” Claire stared into her tea. “We were walking home from a movie. A man tried to grab both of us. I fought—broke my arm, ended up with a concussion trying to stop him. I got away, but he took her.” She drew in a breath, let it out slowly. “They found her three days later.”
The words were clinical. Detached. The only way she could say them.
Wolf said nothing, but she sensed his empathy.
“I was useless,” she went on. “I couldn’t save her. Couldn’t even give the police a good description of the guy. The head injury scrambled my memory of his face.” She looked up. “So I decided to become someone who could save people. Someone who hunts men like him.”
“You were fourteen, and you fought a grown man.” Wolf leaned forward. “That’s not useless. That’s brave.”
“I lost her.”
“You did what you could.” The intensity in his voice caught her off guard. “That matters, Claire.”
Something in his voice, the way he said her name—Claire’s chest felt too tight.
“Lily would be proud of you,” he said.
The certainty in his words stopped her. “But I let her down.”
“You were a girl attacked by a monster. You didn’t let anyone down.”
She pushed the cup away. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m doing this for her or for me.”
“Does it matter? You’re saving lives either way.”
“But am I? Three women are dead. The Countdown Killer is still out there. I’m in Montana drinking tea while—”
“While staying alive and helping your team catch him.” Wolf leaned in another inch, close enough that she could see tiny gold flecks in his eyes. “Your job right now is to survive and go on to hunt other killers.”
“What if that’s not enough?”
“It’s everything.”
They stared at each other across the table, tea and cookies forgotten. The kitchen felt smaller. Warmer.
Claire was hyperaware of how close he was. The intensity in his gaze. The way his jaw tightened like he was holding himself back from...something. Her eyes dropped to his mouth, just for a second.
His phone buzzed. The spell broke.
He checked his screen. His whole body went rigid.
“What?” Claire asked, instinct driving her to stand. “What is it?”
He didn’t answer. He stood and moved to the window with his hand on his weapon.
“Wolf?”
He turned and showed her the screen. A message had come from Lynx. Her body shook as the words registered.
Stalker just posted online. ‘Found you, Claire. Montana looks good on you.’
The world tilted. Claire’s hands went numb. “He knows.” Her voice came from somewhere far away. “He knows I’m here.”
Wolf was already moving, radio in hand. “Wolf to all units. Compound lockdown. Paperclip is compromised. I repeat, Paperclip is compromised.”
Static crackled. “Lynx here. Copy that.”
“Grizzly copies.”
“Hawk copies.”
Wolf turned to her, all softness gone. This was the operator now. The weapon. “Your room. Now.”
Claire moved on shaky legs, rushing beside him down the hallway, her mind racing.
The Countdown Killer had found her. Across the country, in a classified location, with every security measure in place—he’d found her.
How? How was that even possible?
Three women were dead. She was next on his list, and the only thing standing between her and the monster who’d been hunting her was a man she’d known for less than twenty-four hours.
A man who made her feel safer than she had in fifteen years.
A man whose eyes held secrets she couldn’t name.
They reached her door. Wolf swept the room—windows, closet, bathroom. Checked locks. Tested window seals.
“Stay here,” he said. “Lock the door. Don’t open it for anyone but me or Dr. Montgomery. Understand?”
Claire nodded. “He’s coming, isn’t he? He’s going to get me.”
Wolf’s jaw tightened. His eyes met hers. Steel and stone and something that looked like a promise. “He’ll have to go through me first.”