Page 69 of Raven

A cigarette butt.

Fresh. Still faintly smoldering.

Someone had been here. Watching.

I slipped around the edge of the parking structure, ducking behind a van. The scent of engine oil hit my nose, but underneath it—sweat. Sour. Nervous.

Then I saw him.

* * *

He was crouchedlow behind a row of parked cars, dark hoodie, jeans, ballcap pulled low. Face partially turned away.

But I recognized him from the surveillance stills Tag had shown me.

The second kidnapper.

The bastard who tied up two little kids and lit a fire around them.

He didn’t see me. Not yet.

I crept closer, knife still sheathed, hand loose by my thigh. He shifted, glancing toward the hospital windows.

He was watching the pediatric wing.

I stepped out from behind the car.

“Looking for someone?”

He spun. Saw me. And ran.

* * *

I chasedhim around the back of the building, dodging equipment carts and dumpsters. He was fast—but I was faster. Trained for terrain like this. For worse.

He cut across the maintenance yard. I launched forward, tackling him from behind.

We hit the dirt hard. He threw an elbow into my side. I took it, rolled, and came down on top of him, knee to chest.

He reached for something—maybe a knife, maybe a gun. I slammed his wrist to the pavement.

“Not tonight.”

He spat blood and snarled. “They were worth a lot, those kids—”

I punched him.

Hard.

“You are going to prison for the rest of your life,” I growled, “and I’ll make sure you never speak another word.”

* * *

Footsteps thundered behind me.

Gage, Tag, and the Hospital security.

I stood, breathing heavily. “He was watching the window. Planning to come back.”

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