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Behind me, River cursed softly.

“He’s not testing you anymore,” he said. “He’s taunting you.”

“No,” I said quietly. “He’s warning me.”

I folded the paper, slower this time.

“He’s saying this isn’t about revenge.”

River’s eyes darkened. “Then what is it?”

I looked out the window.

At the trees.

At the open sky I hadn’t stepped into since that morning.

“It’s aclaim.”

Before River could respond, headlights swept across the living room wall. A truck door slammed, and I was already moving.

The front door opened.

And there he was.

Cyclone.

Rain still clinging to his shoulders, jaw tight, fire in his eyes.

“I know who he is,” he said, voice rough. “And I’m not letting him near you again.”

I stepped into his arms and pressed the paper into his hand.

He looked down at the message.

And his entire body went still.

47

Unknown Man

He watched them through the scope.

Close, but not too close.

The porch light bathed her in a golden glow. Her body relaxed inhisarms—Cyclone. The soldier. The obstacle.

A flicker of something sharp curled behind his ribs.

Not jealousy.

Disappointment.

She was supposed to be different.

She was supposed to understand.

Instead, she had handed herself over. Let someone else carry the weight. Let someone elseholdher.