Page 68 of Raven

They didn’t find the suspect, but the hospital was crawling with cops and private security now. No one was taking chances.

Beatrice refused to leave the kids' side, so I stayed with her. Tag and Gage rotated out, checking the rest of the floors.

Eventually, the boy and girl both fell into a deeper sleep, their breathing slow and even.

Beatrice leaned her head on my shoulder, finally allowing herself to exhale. I wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer.

“You did good, Bea.”

“They were so scared,” she murmured. “I couldn’t walk away.”

“You didn’t. You stayed with them. And they’ll never forget that.”

Silence stretched between us, warm and heavy with everything we didn’t have to say.

Finally, she whispered, “Raven?”

“Yeah?”

She looked up at me, eyes rimmed with red but still burning bright. “I need to know something.”

“Anything.”

“If we ever… if something happens and you’re not there—if I have to do something dangerous again—will you still believe in me? I was scared of following Mandy into that apartment, but I knew Mandy could hear someone in there. I had to go in and see if she was right.”

I cupped her face, my thumb brushing the edge of her jaw. “Beatrice, I will always believe in you. I trust you with my life. It scares me thinking about you going into burning buildings, but I know that’s what you do, and I know you would never take a chance if you didn’t think you would make it out alive.

She blinked fast, then kissed me—quick and fierce. “I love you.”

I smiled. “Good. Because I’m not letting you go.”

She leaned into my chest. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

33

Raven

I didn’t sleep.

Not with him still out there.

After the Code Pink was lifted and the kids were resting, I kissed Beatrice’s forehead and whispered, “Stay with them. I’ll be back.”

She looked up at me, eyes worried. “Where are you going?”

“Hunting.”

* * *

I slippedthrough the side stairwell, bypassing the main exits. If he was still nearby, he wouldn’t be inside the hospital anymore—not with that kind of heat on him. But predators like him? They circle back. They always do. To finish what they started.

The hospital grounds were bathed in shadows. Motion lights clicked on as I moved past hedges and loading bays, my boots silent on the concrete. I scanned each corner, ears straining for movement.

It was quiet. Too quiet.

I reached the rear ambulance bay and crouched, resting my hand on the ground. Still warm from sun exposure. Tire tracks. Shoe prints. And—there.

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