The night didn't rest easy after the wolves had been walked off into the snow.
The cabin was too warm, too quiet, every creak of timber amplified, every gust of wind scraping across the siding like fingernails.
Sera sat in the living room with Oogie anchored against her hip, listening to the others move through the house in their practiced rhythm—Alexei checking locks twice, Elias noting angles of approach from each window, Zubair leaning against the mantle like a statue while Lachlan tested the balance of a rifle he'd stripped and reassembled.
The coin-sized tracker glared up from the coffee table. Mocking in its simplicity.
"They'll be back," Elias said finally, breaking the silence. His voice was steady, as though he were reciting fact. "Men like that don't quit on humiliation."
"They won't get the chance," Zubair replied, calm as ever. He didn't raise his voice, didn't need to. It carried anyway. "We find them first."
