Page 36 of Pack Obsession

A young buck emerges from the underbrush, antlers still in velvet. It freezes, seeing me, nostrils flaring. Prey recognizing predator. For a moment, we’re locked in stillness, neither moving. Then its head jerks toward where Casey is, and I see the moment it catches her scent.

The deer bolts, crashing through the forest in panic. Classic prey response—making noise to warn others of danger. Casey’s head snaps up at the sound, and I use the distraction to move positions.

I find higher ground, settling into a natural observation post. She’s methodically quartering the area now.

The sun breaks through the canopy, creating patterns of light and shadow that dance across the forest floor. She moves through them like a ghost, getting closer to my position with each sweep. My training says to relocate, to maintain a better advantage so she won’t find me, but something else, something stronger, keeps me in place.

I want her to find me.

The confession hits hard. I’m compromised. Have been since she first looked at us with defiance instead of fear. Since sheoffered to help with the heist rather than beg for mercy. Since every interaction started feeling less like a job and more like...

A crow calls overhead, wings black against the grey sky. The sound triggers something?—

"Contact left! Get down!"

The memory slams into me like a physical blow.

Rain drips down my neck as I press against wet bark, grip tight on my rifle. George is bleeding out beside me, his leg shredded by their trap. His breathing comes in short gasps that give away our position with every exhale.

"Leave me." Blood bubbles on his lips. "I’m slowing you down."

"Shut up." The makeshift bandage is soaked through. His blood. Always their blood. "We move together or not at all."

Footsteps in the distance. Getting closer. The hunters becoming the hunted.

"Logan." George’s voice cracks. "You can’t save everyone. Some of us aren’t meant to make it home."

But I couldn’t. I never could. They found us just before dawn. George took two rounds meant for me. I got him to the extraction point, but he was gone before the chopper landed. Just like the others. Always too late. Always?—

Movement near a fallen log snaps me back to the present. I blink away ghosts and focus on the hunt at hand.

The thought brings a growl to my throat. Let her try running. There’s a reason Julian hired us to find her. We’re the best. Though he never mentioned how her scent would affect us, how her sass would get under our skin, how?—

"Tag. You’re it."

Something pokes me hard in the back, and I snap to my feet, whipping around to see Casey standing there with a long branch in her grasp.

The fuck? She snuck up onme?

She grins, blonde ponytail swinging. Something in my chest cracks open at her playfulness, and I burst out laughing. The sound feels foreign in my throat.

"Is that seriously your tactical approach? Tag?"

"Well, I considered ‘you’re under arrest,’but felt that might be too cliché." Her nose scrunches. "Though I guess in this case, it’s more accurate."

She tosses the branch aside, hip cocked in those painted-on Gucci jeans Nash bought her. They hug every curve like a second skin, and the cropped top reveals a strip of sun-kissed skin that has my mouth going dry. Perspiration gleams on her brow, and a bead of sweat trails down her neck.

"You know," she continues, oblivious to the effect she’s having. "For a super-secret guy, you weren’t that hard to find."

"Maybe I wanted to be found."

Her eyes narrow. "Why would you want that?"

"To see what you’d do." I step closer, testing. She holds her ground. "To see if you’d run."

"From you?" A challenge flares in her gaze. "I don’t run anymore."

"Everyone runs eventually."

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