Chapter 18: CONTACT
Job's text arrives at 1:17 PM: Hunter #2 (Pavel) just left motel. Heading downtown. GPS shows him circling commercial district.
I'm already moving. Start my patrol car, radio Lucas.
"One hunter on the move. Downtown."
"I'm tied up with the mayor. Can you handle it?"
"Yeah. I'll tail him."
I find Pavel's car—rented sedan, gray, forgettable. He's parked on Main Street. No sign of him in the vehicle.
I drive past. Circle the block. Come back on foot.
There. Walking the sidewalk. Baseball cap, sunglasses, casual clothes. Blending in. But his eyes are scanning faces. Comparing to something—probably a photo on his phone.
He's hunting.
I follow at distance. Stay casual. Just a deputy on patrol.
Pavel checks three coffee shops. A bookstore. The post office. Each time, he scans faces, checks his phone, moves on.
Then he freezes.
Outside the grocery store. Looking through the windows.
My Criminal Instinct screams. I follow his line of sight.
Inside: Carrie Hopewell. Shopping with Deva. Normal mom routine. Checking produce, reading labels.
Pavel raises his phone. Taking a photo.
No.
I cross the street. Fast but not running. Pavel's focused on the phone. Zooming. Framing the shot.
I reach him as his finger touches the screen.
My hand closes on his wrist. "Phone down."
He turns. Surprise flickers. Then recognition—the deputy. But also something else. Calculation.
"Problem, officer?" His English is good. Slight accent.
"That depends. Why are you photographing people without permission?"
"I'm not—" He tries to pull his wrist free. I don't let go.
"You are. I watched you. Three shops, now here. Taking photos." I squeeze slightly. Feel bones shift. "Who are you looking for?"
His other hand moves toward his jacket. Where a weapon would be.
Violence Mastery activates. I see the motion. The intent. The angle of approach.
My free hand catches his reaching arm. Twists. The wrist joint hyperextends with a crack.
Pavel screams—sharp, shocked. The phone drops. I catch it. Pocket it.
"You broke my wrist!" His face is pale. Shocked.
"You were reaching for a weapon. I defended myself." I release him. He staggers back, cradling his ruined wrist. "Tell your boss you found nothing. Or tell him the truth. Either way, you're leaving town."
"You don't know what you're doing—"
"I know exactly what I'm doing." I lean closer. Voice low. "Tell Rabbit his daughter is protected. Tell him sending hunters is a mistake. Tell him Banshee isn't as easy as he thinks."
Pavel's eyes widen. "How do you—"
"Go. Now. Before I arrest you for stalking and attempted assault."
He stumbles away. Gets in his car. Drives off, cradling his wrist against his chest.
I check his phone. The photo app is open. The last image—Carrie in the grocery store. Clear shot. Recognizable.
I delete it. But there could be backups. Cloud sync. Remote storage.
The damage is done. Contact was made.
Movement catches my eye. Carrie exits the grocery store, bags in hand, Deva beside her.
She sees me. Sees Pavel's car leaving. Sees the way I'm standing—combat stance, ready for violence.
Our eyes meet.
She knows. Might not know everything. But she knows someone was watching. Someone dangerous. And I stopped them.
She grabs Deva. Walks quickly to her car. Doesn't look back.
I watch them drive away. Then I destroy Pavel's phone. Smash it on the pavement. Grind the pieces under my boot.
Too late. But symbolic.
My radio: "Ben, report."
"Contact made. Hunter photographed Carrie at the grocery store. I intercepted. Broke his wrist. Destroyed the phone. Photo deleted but could have synced."
"Shit. Is Carrie safe?"
"She saw the confrontation. Knows something's happening. She left the area."
"I'm heading to her house now. We can't wait anymore. She needs the truth."
"Agreed. I'll meet you there."
I drive toward the Hopewell residence. My hands are steady on the wheel. No tremor. The fight was easy. Too easy.
Pavel was professional. Trained. Experienced.
I broke his wrist before he could react.
My powers are getting stronger. Violence Mastery is more reliable. Pain Conversion is waiting in the background—ready if I need it.
I'm becoming something dangerous. Maybe something monstrous.
The thought should disturb me.
It doesn't.
I pull up to the Hopewell house. Lucas is already there. Carrie's car in the driveway.
We park. Approach the door together.
Lucas knocks.
Carrie opens it. Her face is composed but her eyes are hard. Combat eyes.
"We need to talk," Lucas says.
"Inside." She steps back. "Deva's upstairs. Quietly."
We enter. She closes the door. Leads us to the kitchen. Away from the stairs.
She turns. Faces us. "Who was that man?"
"One of four hunters," I say. "Looking for you. For Anastasia Hisbauch."
Her composure cracks. Just for a second. But enough.
"You know," she whispers.
"We know everything," Lucas says. "Who you are. Who your father is. Why you ran."
Carrie sits heavily. The perfect housewife facade crumbles. Underneath: a woman who's been running for fifteen years. Who's been waiting for this moment.
"How long have you known?" she asks.
"Two days. Since the intruder." Lucas sits across from her. "We ran his prints. Followed the connections. Found your father."
"And you didn't turn me in. Didn't expose me." She looks between us. "Why?"
"Because I love you," Lucas says simply. "I've always loved you. And I won't let him take you."
Tears fill her eyes. But she doesn't cry. Doesn't break.
"You can't stop him," she says. "My father is... you don't understand what he is. What he can do."
"We understand enough," I say. "Four hunters in town. Olek leading them. Professional extraction team. They'll try to take you by force."
"When?"
"Soon. Could be tonight. Could be tomorrow. They've confirmed your location."
She stands. Paces. "I need to run. Take Deva and disappear—"
"No." Lucas's voice is firm. "Running is what they expect. They'll have teams watching highways, airports, bus stations. You run, they intercept."
"Then what?"
"We fight," I say. "We know where they are. We know their methods. And they don't know we're ready."
Carrie looks at me. Really looks. Sees the same thing Siobhan saw. The same thing Pavel saw.
Something that isn't entirely human.
"Who are you?" she asks quietly.
"Someone who protects his own," I say. "And Lucas is mine. Which makes you mine by extension."
"A deputy who breaks wrists and deletes evidence." She almost smiles. "You're not what you pretend either."
"No. None of us are."
She sags against the counter. Fifteen years of running. Fifteen years of fear. All culminating here.
"What do I tell Gordon? Deva?"
"Nothing yet," Lucas says. "We handle the immediate threat. Then we figure out the rest."
"And if you can't handle it? If my father comes himself?"
Lucas takes her hand. "Then we'll handle that too."
She looks at him. At me. At the two men offering protection against impossible odds.
"You're both insane," she says.
"Probably," I agree.
"But you're serious. You'll actually fight my father's hunters. For me."
"For you," Lucas confirms. "And for the life you've built. And for the family that doesn't deserve to be destroyed."
Carrie closes her eyes. A single tear escapes. She wipes it away.
"Okay," she whispers. "Okay. What do we do?"
Lucas and I exchange glances. The war council begins.
We layout everything. The hunters' location. Their capabilities. Our advantages. The timeline.
Carrie contributes. She knows her father's methods. His patterns. How he thinks. How he operates.
"He'll want me alive," she says. "Unharmed if possible. That's a tactical advantage. They won't use lethal force on me."
"But they will on us," I note.
"Yes."
"Good to know."
We plan through the afternoon. Carrie calls Gordon—makes an excuse about meeting with the school board. Asks him to pick up Deva from a friend's house later. Buys us time.
By evening, we have a strategy. Incomplete, risky, probably insane.
But it's something.
Lucas and I leave as the sun sets. Carrie stands in her doorway, watching us go. A woman caught between two lives—the one she built and the one hunting her.
"She's counting on us," Lucas says as we drive away.
"I know."
"We can't fail."
"We won't."
The certainty in my voice surprises me. But it's true. Failure isn't an option. Not for Lucas. Not for Carrie. Not for the family that deserves protection.
The hunters are coming.
The wolf is ready.
Let them come.
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