Page 23 of Ranger's Honor
I sigh and brace both hands on the counter. "Not now, Kari."
"If not now, when? You almost didn’t come back. Don’t think I didn’t feel it. You were on the edge."
My control frays. "Drop it."
She takes a step closer. "You’re not just checking locks. You’re hunting ghosts."
Another step.
"I know about the mark."
My head jerks toward her. "What mark?"
"The one Gideon told me about. The Reaper’s signature. That’s what was left behind at Sookie’s place, right? A message. A challenge."
I slam my hand against the wall, the impact jarring up through my arm like a bolt of electricity. The drywall shudders, coughing up a puff of white dust as if the house itself flinches from the blow. The sound echoes, too loud in the quiet, a crack like bone under pressure. The air between us turns electric, charged and humming, as if every molecule in the room braces for what might come next.
My knuckles sting, but it's nothing compared to the ache in my chest. a hollow echo cracking through the silence as a fine spray of white dust floats down. My chest heaves. The tension doesn’t bleed off—it tightens, coils inside me like barbed wire. "He was there, Kari."
Silence detonates between us, like the air itself holds its breath. The hum of the fridge seems louder now, the tick of the kitchen clock deafening. My ears ring with it—like gunfire still echoing through bone. I don't realize I'm holding my breath until my lungs scream.
She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t back down. She just looks at me, eyes wide but steady.
"Then say it," she breathes. "Say it out loud."
"It wasn’t random," I grind out. "The warehouse, the timing—it was him. His scent was there. I didn’t see his face, but I know. My wolf knows."
Kari exhales slowly. "You were going to tell me when? After he left another message in blood?"
"How do you know about that?" I shake my head. "No. Wait. Let me guess, it was in Sookie's notes."
Kari nods.
I drag both hands through my hair, pacing the kitchen like I’m too big for the space. Like I can outpace the truth that’s been tailing me since the warehouse attack.
"I can’t protect you if you’re flinching at shadows," I snap.
"I’m not the one flinching, Dalton."
The words hit harder than they should. Because they’re true.
"You think you’re protecting me by keeping me in the dark?" she demands. "That’s not how this works—not with us."
The tension simmers, tight and hot, and I stop pretending I can stand still.
I close the distance in two strides, catch her face in my hands, and kiss her hard. It’s not tender—it’s a brand, sealing something between us neither of us is ready to name. When I break away, my mouth still a breath from hers, my voice is low and steady.
“I won’t be far. Just checking the perimeter.”
Her eyes stay on me, and I can feel the pull to stay, but the need to protect her is louder. I turn for the back door, knowing she’s still watching.
Outside, I strip off the sweatsuit. The Gulf air is thick, heavy, clinging to my skin and carrying the ghost of her scent. My chest tightens, not with doubt but with purpose. Every step I take out here is one more layer of safety between her and whatever’s circling us.
I close my eyes and let the shift hit like a controlled detonation—mist rising from the ground, curling around me, catching moonlight in violet and steel. Thunder rumbles in my gut, the charge building until the human edges burn away and instinct takes over.
I drop to all fours. The world sharpens—trees stretch higher, the air splits into layers of scent and sound. Her scent is the anchor, sweet and sharp, threaded through the night air like a living brand.
I run the perimeter in a hard, fast loop, muscles driving, paws pounding into the earth. Every breath pulls in intel—wildlife scattered, no human scent fresh enough to worry me. But I keep moving, widening my circles. I rake my claws through tree bark at the property edge, marking it, making sure anything with a pulse knows this ground is claimed. Mine.
