I stepped closer carefully.
And my blood ran cold.
It was a picture of him.
Young.
Maybe twenty-two.
Standing outside a military airport with a duffel bag over his shoulder.
Watching my house from across the street.
“Oh God…”
Hersh stared at the photo like he’d been punched.
“I remember this.”
Wolf looked up sharply.
“What?”
“I came home on leave.”
His voice sounded distant now.
Haunted.
“Her father saw me parked outside.”
My chest tightened painfully.
“He came out with a shotgun.”
Silence slammed through the room.
Trigger blinked.
“A shotgun?”
Hersh nodded once.
“He told me if I loved her, I’d stay away.”
Pain twisted through me so hard I physically flinched.
And suddenly…
everything clicked into place.
The fear.
The letters.
The hiding.
The paranoia.
