Page 38 of Ranger's Pursuit

Then something changes, but it’s not his voice that sets off the alarm in my spine.

It’s the sudden stillness in the air, the subtle drop in temperature that tightens the back of my neck. My pulse stutters, heart ticking faster even before my brain catches up. There’s something in his eyes—fierce, hunted, raw—that tells me this isn’t a casual conversation.

Something followed him in—something more than danger or bloodshed. It’s in the way his eyes lock onto mine, sharper than usual, shadowed with knowledge he hasn’t spoken yet.

I straighten instinctively, every nerve sparking like I’ve been plugged into a storm.

There’s no question anymore.

The danger we’ve been tracing like smoke through the trees finally takes shape and is no longer circling. It’s coming.

And it’s coming for me.

Not in theory. Not in nightmares. Here. Now.

Deacon’s jaw ticks once. "Get ready," he says. "We don't have much time."

CHAPTER 15

DEACON

The instant Sutton stills beneath my touch, a visceral alert flares inside me, like a live current snapping down my spine, jolting every nerve awake. My breath shortens, a tight, controlled intake as if bracing for a blow. My shoulders lock, tension winding through every muscle like a fuse lit too close to the powder. Every nerve fires a warning—loud, insistent, impossible to ignore.

Something’s wrong. Not just the usual buzz of alertness I carry like armor, but a deeper, more primal pulse that reverberates in my bones. It started the moment I stepped onto the porch and caught the wind’s new edge. The scent carried more than dirt and trees. It carried intent. Malevolence. My wolf stirs, uneasily.

Now, standing in the kitchen with her lips still warm against mine, I taste more than desire. The air feels charged, the way it does before a lightning strike—tension crackling just beneath the surface. Beneath the heat of her kiss lingers a chill that settles in my gut. Not just instinct. A warning. Something dangerous is closing in, stalking us through the calm like a predator waiting for the perfect moment to pounce.

“We need to move,” I say, my voice low. Her eyes search mine, sharp and questioning.

“What is it?”

I don’t answer right away. I tilt my head, scanning the compound with every sense heightened. The instincts that have carried me through hell flare to life, sharp and immediate. A prickle dances across the back of my neck. The air has gone taut, like a wire drawn too tight—every breath thick with warning, as if the very molecules have rearranged themselves around me. My muscles lock, and a cold awareness sinks into my gut. Something is out there, and it's watching.

I yank my phone from my pocket, fingers tight with urgency, and jab Gage’s number. He answers before the first full ring fades, voice clipped and alert.

“Talk to me.”

“Motion on the perimeter,” Gage says without preamble. “Northeast sector. Coyote shifter scent. Matches partial signature from the Hollister scene.”

My gut tightens, a savage knot pulling deep and low like jaws clenching around prey, fierce and unrelenting. The name alone sends a jolt down my spine—the Reaper. A ghost in the dark. A killer with no conscience. And now, he's closer than ever.

“Distance?”

“Within fifty miles. Could be closer. He’s not alone. Three, maybe four with him. Could be scouts, but we’re treating it as forward movement.”

“Full lockdown,” I order. “Double the perimeter. I want eyes on the tree line, and I want Dalton in the back with Maggie. Rush up front. You stay with surveillance and keep me updated every fifteen minutes.”

“Already on it.”

I end the call and turn back to Sutton. Her jaw is set, but her hands tremble slightly where they rest against the edge ofthe counter. I see it—the slight quiver in her fingers, the way her knuckles whiten. It's subtle, but to me, it's glaring.

My gut knots, a primal ache twisting low in my chest. I want to pull her into my arms, to breathe her in and reassure her, but I know better than to offer lies dressed as comfort. My breath comes shallow, clipped. The danger feels closer now, and she feels it too. The air between us pulses with unspoken truths and looming threats. She's holding the line—but barely. Brave, steady, but straining under the tension. And I swear on everything I am, I’ll be the one to hold it with her. She may not say it aloud, but she knows—something is coming. And she knows I’ve already braced to meet it.

“Is it him?” she asks.

“Yes.” I step in close again, but this time I don’t kiss her. I rest my hands on her shoulders, grounding us both. “We’ve got movement about fifty miles out. Reaper’s circling.”

“So what now?”

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