“What?” I snapped.
Trigger flipped the photograph around slowly.
A date written in black marker.
Six years ago.
Below it?—
one sentence.
Still emotionally attached.
The room went dead silent.
Flick physically recoiled.
“What the hell…”
Wolf grabbed another photo.
Different date.
Different handwriting.
Subject continues surveillance behavior from a distance.
Every Ranger instinct inside me turned lethalinstantly.
They weren’t just watching Flick.
They were profiling me.
Studying me.
Learning me.
Hunting me.
Trigger looked genuinely disturbed now.
“This wasn’t revenge.”
No.
It wasn’t.
This was an obsession.
Mercer spent years building a psychological file on me.
And Flick?—
God—
she’d been at the center of it the entire time.
Then my hand closed around one final photograph at the bottom.
