Page 34 of Wild Heart

The flyer bore the image of a wolf’s snarling mouth, teeth exaggerated, fangs dripping red ink. Mason ripped it down, the paper tearing beneath his grip. The sound was louder than it should’ve been in the quiet.

"They’re using fear," Natalie said. "And they’re not even hiding it anymore."

Inside, the sheriff met them with the same tired empathy he always offered.

"I’ve got deputies doing rounds near your property lines," he said, hands folded over his belt. "But without a name or a camera shot, there’s only so much we can do. We don’t have the resources to sit on your fence line twenty-four hours a day."

"So that’s it?" Natalie asked. "We wait for them to do real damage before you step in?"

"I didn’t say that." He leaned forward, lowering his voice. "But this town is divided. Half the people see your sanctuary as a refuge. The other half see it as a threat to their way of life. You know how it is around here. People keep their own counsel, and they don’t like being told what’s safe and what’s not."

Natalie’s hands tightened in her lap. "We’re not asking for round-the-clock protection. We just need help deterring whoever’s doing this before someone gets hurt."

"I’ll do what I can," he promised. "But I’d suggest you keep things calm. No escalation. The more public you make this fight, the more likely it is to backfire."

Back in the truck, Mason stared at the steering wheel for a long time, the light from the dashboard casting sharp shadows across his face.

"It’s not just the sanctuary anymore," he said. "It’s you. It’s Olivia. It’s the kids working the pens and Davey giving tours. They’re trying to scare all of us."

Natalie reached for his hand. "Then we fight smarter."

He looked over at her, his eyes dark and steady. "You’re still sure about all of this?"

She smiled, fierce and calm. "More than ever."

As they turned onto the winding road that led back to thesanctuary, a pair of headlights appeared behind them. Bright. Close. Too close. Mason’s jaw clenched. He eased off the gas.

"They’re tailing us."

Natalie turned to look. A rusted pickup truck. High beams burning through the rear window.

"Keep driving," she said. "Don’t stop."

The truck followed them for two more turns before veering off onto a side road. But by the time they reached the gates, the nerves in Natalie’s hands were still twitching. Mason climbed out first and double-checked the locks on the outer gate. Then the fence line. Then the tool shed.

When he returned, Natalie was sitting on the porch steps, staring out into the trees.

"This is only the beginning, isn’t it?" she asked.

He sat beside her, resting his hand on her knee. "Yeah. But we’re ready."

In the back of the truck, tucked beneath a tarp, were the trail cameras Mason had bought from his own money, quiet weapons in a war they hadn’t chosen but were determined not to lose. Because in the dark beyond the trees, something could be watching and waiting and this time, Mason was sure the predators were of the humankind.

Inside the lodge, Olivia stood from her chair on her own two feet, steadying herself without help, and whispered to her reflection in the window, "Come at me, then. I dare you."

The tension didn’t ease when the sun rose. In fact, with daylight came new fears, the possibility of finding more damage, more messages left in the trees, more signs that someone was watching. But with the fear came resolve, and Natalie and Mason were up before first light, laying out a strategy.

The dining table in the main lodge became a command center. Trail maps, fencing diagrams, and digital printouts were spread across the wood grain like puzzle pieces. Mason pointed to each vulnerable area with a red marker, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"Here, here, and here," he said, circling the main wildlife corridors. "If I were trying to make a point without getting caught, I’d hit these first."

Natalie nodded, tracing her finger across the path to the southern ridge. "We’ll need extra lighting near the feeding stations. Solar-powered, motion-activated. If they step too close, we catch their faces on camera."

Olivia had joined them mid-morning, moving more steadily now, her cane a companion more than a crutch. She studied their plans, her expression unreadable.

"I’m getting a list of local journalists together," she said, flipping open a notebook. "We’re going to hold a press event. Remind everyone why we’re here. We’re not the enemy—we’re the defense line between injured animals and extinction. And they need to see that."

"You’re going to speak?" Mason asked, surprised.

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