“You okay?” I rasped.
Her smirk was pure fire. “Saved your ass again, Mountain Man.”
I almost laughed, but the smell of cordite and fear stuck in my throat. Around us, deputies gathered civilians, kids sobbing into their parents’ shoulders. Lane’s voice snapped orders, Fraiser barked backup positions, the SEALs sweeping the gym for more infiltrators.
But all I saw was Zoe—alive, fierce, and steady in the storm.
And all I heard was the echo of the wolf’s last words:You’re already too late.
36
Zoe
By midafternoon, the square was unrecognizable. The fire was out, the crater smoldering. Deputies moved like ants, herding civilians home or into shelters. The SEALs swept every rooftop, every alley, every shadow.
We were cleaning up.
But it didn’t feel like victory.
Forest leaned against the hood of a deputy’s truck, rifle slung, eyes fixed on the ridgeline like he could burn a hole straight through it. His shirt was torn, smeared with smoke and blood, but his stance was solid, immovable.
Jason walked up, shaking his head as he flipped shut a notepad. “We pulled three more of North’s wolves in town. Two dead, one breathing but not talking. He seeded them in with evacuees. Every corner of this place was a trap.”
Lane blew out a hard breath. “But we flushed them. Town’s secure—for now.”
Fraiser crossed his arms, his broad frame casting half the café in shadow. “North isn’t finished. This was a test run. A stage show. He’s still out there, and until he’s in the ground, nobody in this town sleeps easy.”
I stepped closer, brushing dirt from Forest’s sleeve. “So we don’t wait for him to come back. We go to him.”
Forest’s jaw ticked, his eyes never leaving the ridgeline. “No.” His voice was low steel. “He’s coming to me.”
Forest
The call came at sundown.One of Lane’s deputies—breathless, panicked—shouting over the radio.
“Shots fired on the ridge! Officer down! It’s him—it’s North—”
I didn’t wait. Didn’t breathe. I grabbed my rifle and started running, boots hammering the dirt path that led out of town.
Zoe called after me, but I didn’t stop. This wasn’t a strategy anymore. This wasn’t orders or traps or games.
This was personal.
The ridge loomed ahead, the trees black against the orange sky. Gunfire echoed sharp through the timber, shouts and screams carried on the wind.
And then—silence.
I slowed, rifle raised, breath heaving. My skin prickled, every instinct screaming.
And there he was.
North stepped from the shadows, calm as ever, smoke curling from the pistol in his hand. His smile was slow, deliberate, like we’d finally arrived at the part he’d been waiting for.
“Detective Brewer,” he said, voice smooth as glass. “Or should I say… Forest?”
My rifle locked on him, finger brushing the trigger. “This ends tonight.”
His smile sharpened. “At last… something we agree on.”
