Page 19 of Easy, Tiger

"Shit," Owen mutters. "How much does she suspect?"

"Nothing concrete. She thinks she saw something unbelievable, but she's trying to rationalize it away."

"And you're going to let her," Sadie observes, not quite making it a question.

"I'm going to protect her. That's for sure."

"Well then," Owen says, his expression grim, "get ready for the protecting part, because we've got a problem."

Dread coils tight in my core. "How bad?"

"Bad enough." Owen takes out his phone, flashing a photo of disturbed ground near the creek. "Scouts found fresh boot prints at the exact spot where you were shot. Our hunter friend came back to check if his target was still there."

Sadie moves closer to examine the image. "He was searching for a body."

"Or blood trail. Signs of a wounded animal." Owen swipes to another photo. "Instead, he found these."

My chest goes hollow. Scattered across the forest floor are graphite pencils, their wooden casings bright against the dark earth. A small tube of fixative lies beside them, its cap missing.

"Art supplies," I breathe.

"Fell out of her bag when she was kneeling beside you, I'd guess." Owen's voice bleeds grim certainty. "She must have had her sketching kit with her."

"So he knows someone was there." A cold knot tightens in my gut as I realize what he means.

"Gets worse." Owen swipes again, revealing a close-up of one pencil. "Check out the brand marking."

Hunching forward, I squint at the tiny lettering etched into the yellow paint. Professional-grade art supplies, exactly what a working illustrator would tote around, not something a casual hiker would toss in a daypack.

"He'll connect this to her eventually," Sadie says quietly. "Red Pine's small enough that a professional artist stands out."

"Especially one who's been hiking alone in the forest every day since she arrived." Owen pockets his phone. "He's probably already asking questions around town."

The protective instincts that have been simmering since I first caught Halsey's scent now roar to full life. Every fiber of my being demands I find this hunter and end the threat permanently. But that would mean abandoning Halsey when she needs protection most.

"What's the timeline?" I ask, already calculating patrol schedules in my head.

"Unknown. Could be hours, could be days or even longer. Depends on how methodical he wants to be," Owen says.

Standing, I grab my jacket from the hook behind the workbench. "Then we don't have time to debate. I'll stay close to her until we neutralize this threat."

"And how exactly do you plan to explain suddenly becoming her shadow?" Sadie raises an eyebrow. "She's smart, Nolan. She'll notice."

"I'll figure something out."

"You always do." Owen heads toward the door, then stops. "Nolan, remember—if this goes sideways, protecting her means protecting all of us. The enclave comes first."

"She saved my life. She deserves the same consideration we'd give any member of this family."

Owen and Sadie exchange another look, but neither argues. They know as well as I do that Halsey has already proven herself worthy of our trust.

"Nolan—don't let sentiment cloud your judgment. If she becomes a liability⁠—"

"She won't."

They leave without another word.

Alone in the workshop, I stare at the workbench where Halsey's sketchbook lay open only minutes ago. The image of that perfect tiger drawing burns behind my eyes—every stripe, every detail of the wound she tended with such gentle care. Unaware of the act, she saved my life, and now that kindness has pulled her straight into the line of danger.