Page 77 of Claimed By The Tracker

He crossed the threshold and swept the lobby in one pass.

Not casual.

A read.

Exits. Sightlines. Cover.

Cataloged in the time it took most people to decide where to put their eyes.

Then his gaze found mine.

And stayed.

Two seconds past anything professional.

I counted them.

Counting was what I did in rooms where I didn't hold the variables.

One.

Two.

It didn't help.

Heat bloomed low beneath my sternum.

Sudden.

Sharp.

Unmistakably placed.

Like the floor had tilted one degree toward him and my whole body felt the slope before my mind agreed to it.

Thirty years in curated rooms, and I had never once felt gravity pick a direction for me.

My wolf didn't stir.

She surged.

Warm. Certain. Almost unbearable.

The way breath comes back after you've held it too long.

Like she'd been waiting eight years for exactly this and had just been handed it.

Adrenaline, I told myself.

The threats.

The meeting.

A man who was good at being looked at.

I was wrong.

I just didn't know it yet.