Page 154 of Only the Hunter

“Noah is four minutes from the stairwell. Keep your phone recording. Do not open that door.”

Four minutes.

I look at the door handle.

The basic lock.

A five-year-old with a bobby pin could get through that.

How much time do I have?

Three minutes, maybe. I use them.

Deep breath in.

I step to the door.

“This is Evie Thompson.”

I hold the phone, angling it to the door as I clearly state my address.

“I’m an attorney for the Department of Justice, currently on voluntary leave. There’s a person outside my home office door, picking the lock. Could you please state your name?”

The knob quiets.

“Could you share who sent you? It’s obvious if you are breaking into my home office, you aren’t here to steal anything. It’s also obvious you were waiting in my home for me.”

Gabe’s voice comes through the comm, as steady as mine. “Noah is thirty seconds out. Keep talking.”

“Are you here because of Lina Morozova? That’s M-O-R-O-Z-O-V-A. Are you here because a murder investigation opened? Or did they send you to prevent Project Safe Passage from re-opening? Please. I am recording this, and the information will be used against you in a court of law.”

Loud pounding up the steps.

That’s got to be Noah.

A siren sounds.

Faint.

Maybe for us.

“Evie. You okay?” That’s Noah.

“I’m good.”

“Stay there. I’m going after him.”

I stay against the wall.

The recording is still running. I can hear my own breathing on it, slower now, the specific deceleration of a body deciding it’s allowed to come down. Footsteps down the hall—Noah, moving through rooms. A door. Another door.

Gabe hasn’t spoken since Noah arrived.

I wait for it. The check-in, the you’re good, the next instruction. Thirty seconds. A minute. The comm is live—I can hear background noise, movement, the ambient sounds from outside.

“Gabe.”

A beat. Then Jake’s voice, even and careful in a way that tells me everything before he says anything.