He stood motionless beneath the rain in dark tactical gear.
No rifle raised.
No attempt to hide.
Just staring directly toward the ranch house.
Toward Flick.
Like he knew she was watching him.
A chill crawled violently down my spine.
Wolf muttered quietly, “That psycho came here alone?”
“No,” Hersh said coldly.
And somehow that answer scared me worse.
Because Hersh understood predators.
Understood killers.
And right now?
He looked furious enough to become one.
Shepherd slowly lifted one gloved hand.
Then pointed directly toward the house.
Toward Flick.
And dragged his thumb slowly across his throat.
70
FELICITY
My entire body went cold.
The throat-slash gesture.
The way he stared directly at me.
Not angry.
Not rushed.
Certain.
Like he already believed I belonged to him somehow.
“Holy hell,” Trigger muttered.
Wolf already had his rifle up.
“Say the word, Blaze.”
