Page 25 of Song Bird Hearts
He’s not armed—at least, not visibly—but something about the way he stands sets every nerve I have on edge. He’s still, stiller than anyone should be. Not like a man, but like a creature waiting for permission to move.
It takes a beat to register. The dark eyes, the way his mouth curves, soft and secret.
“Evening,” he says. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
Knox’s gun comes up so fast, I almost miss it, aimed square at his chest.
“Wait!” I say, stopping Knox from shooting him right here on the doorstep.
Gilden doesn’t say a word, but his gun is in his hand now, too. Wolf’s eyes never leave mine.
“You remember me,” Wolf says. It’s not a question, or even a statement. It’s almost a command, like he can force me to remember him if I somehow forgot.
But I do remember him. How could I forget? The bar, the music from that party, the mask with the low wolf snout. Hell, he’d been the one to get me through the crowd for me to escape. Above all, I remember his words that had left such an impact on me, I’m working on writing a song inspired by them.
You’re the prettiest bouquet of dying flowers I’ve ever seen.
“Wolf,” I murmur. To the others, I add, “he was at the party I livestreamed. Helped me escape.”
That small, unreadable smile again flashes across his Wolf’s face. “I told you I’d see you again.”
Knox doesn’t look away from Wolf, his gun still trained on his chest. Gilden’s mouth tightens as he turns to me, trusting Knox to protect me in a way that only real partners can do. The air shifts, heavy with questions and something sharp underneath that I don’t exactly understand.
“Val,” Gilden says, voice low. “Who the hell is this?”
I can’t answer.
Because I don’t actually know.
I just know he shouldn’t be here.
And somehow, I’m not sure if that terrifies me. . .
Or makes me feel safer than I have in days.
Chapter13
Gilden
What kinda name is “Wolf,” anyway? It sounds like a bad alias from a late-night action flick. That’s the first thing runnin’ through my head. Second? Why in the holy hell is he standin’ on the porch of a cabin that ain’t even on a map? Ain’t nobody supposed to know where we are. And third—cher, this one’s the kicker—why is Valerie Decatur lookin’ at him like he’s both a ghost and a damn guilty fantasy walkin’ outta the dark?
I don’t exactly blame her. He’s certainly handsome in an “I might kill you” kind of way.
Val swallows, her eyes wide and uncertain. “I told you all that I know.”
“So, youdon’tknow him?” Knox asks, his aim unwavering.
I’ll give ol’ Wolf this—he don’t flinch. Not even a twitch. And that? That tells me all I need to know. Man like that don’t rattle easy, which means he’s the kind that gets the job done, one way or another. He’s dangerous, no doubt about it. Either we put him in the ground. . . or we end up there ourselves. Ain’t no middle ground with men like him.
Knox’s voice cuts through the silence first, flat and lethal. “One second to explain why you’re standing in that doorway before I put you on your back.”
Wolf doesn’t flinch. “Because she’s not safe,” he says, his eyes still on Val. “Not out here in your little cabin. Not anywhere she can run to. I told her I’d find her when it was time.”
“And what, you get to decide when that is?” I snap, stepping in. “You just happen to waltz up here like you’re some kind of damn guardian angel?”
Wolf’s gaze finally drifts from Val to me. He’s calm, calculating, like he’s sizing up a battlefield and if he needs to attack.
“You think I stumbled across this cabin by accident?” he asks.
