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Shadow Hunt, Shadow Point Security Romantic Suspense Series, Book 1
©2026 Misty Evans
Claire stared at her phone screen, watching the three dots appear, disappear, then appear again.
She’d asked Wolf what it was like to be a SEAL. Simple question. The kind of small talk people made when they couldn’t sleep and were texting someone they barely knew but somehow felt comfortable reaching out to.
His response finally came through. The Navy gave me purpose. Structure.
She read it twice. Short. Controlled. The kind of answer designed to give information without actually revealing anything.
Claire dug some more. What was your favorite mission?
The three dots took longer this time. She imagined him lying in bed somewhere in this compound, choosing his words carefully.
Can’t talk about most of them. Classified.
Fair enough. Still, there had to be something he could share.
Why did you get out?
Another long pause. The three dots appeared and disappeared three times before his response came through.
Went off mission. Command didn’t appreciate it.
Claire sat up straighter in bed. That wasn’t the standard ‘medical discharge’ or ‘completed my service’ answer. That was an admission of something. Someone who’d broken rules, crossed lines. Done something his superiors couldn’t officially sanction.
Her profiler brain kicked into gear. Wolf had gone off-mission—unauthorized action. Gotten caught or suspected, and discharged for it, hadn’t he?
But he was here now, running security for Shadow Point, a company that operated in the gray areas law enforcement couldn’t reach.
What kind of mission? she typed.
No dots this time.
She waited a full minute. Nothing.
I know you didn’t fall asleep, Wolf. If you can’t talk about it, that’s okay. What can you talk about?
Still, he didn’t answer.
Not directly anyway. In some ways, it confirmed exactly what she thought.
Fine. Texts were impersonal and too easy to misinterpret. And he probably didn’t trust anyone enough to say more on an app.
Claire looked at her phone, then at her door, then back at her phone.
This was stupid. She should try to sleep. Morning would come early, and she had profiling work to do with Dr. Montgomery.
But she was wide awake now, and more curious about Wolf than she had any right to be.
Before she could second-guess herself, she typed: Any chance there’s tea in this fancy compound of yours?
She hit send and immediately regretted it. Was she too forward? Too…something.
The three dots appeared almost instantly.
Cafeteria. Give me two minutes. I’ll come get you.
Claire exhaled. Okay then.
She got out of bed, traded her pajamas for yoga pants, and put on her FBI Academy sweatshirt. Ran her fingers through her hair—loose around her shoulders instead of pulled back in its usual professional style. Then, she grabbed her phone and headed for the door.
Her hand hesitated on the handle. Was this smart? Trying to force friendship with a man she barely knew in the middle of the night?
Except he wasn’t just any man. He was her protection detail, and something about him made her feel…
Safe.
That was the problem, wasn’t it? She felt safe with Wolf in a way she hadn’t felt safe with anyone in fifteen years.
Claire opened the door.
He stood in the hallway, ten feet away. Grizzly was in full bodyguard mode beside her door.
“Commander,” Grizzly said.
“Get some sleep,” Wolf replied. “I’ve got her for tonight.”
Then it was just the two of them in the dimly lit corridor. Something about the way he’d said that—I’ve got her for tonight—made Claire’s pulse skip.
He wore tactical pants and a black T-shirt that showed off the kind of build a man gained from years of hard training. His hair was slightly mussed, like he’d been lying down. His weapon was holstered at his hip. He still looked professional, but…softer somehow than during the day.
“Agent Dawson.” His voice was quiet in the stillness.
“It’s after midnight, Wolf. I think we can skip the formalities. Call me Claire.”
The corner of his mouth almost twitched. Almost. “This way.”
He moved down the hallway with that controlled grace she’d noticed earlier. Always aware. Always assessing. Eyes tracking corners, checking sight lines, never fully relaxed, even in his own compound.
But he slowed his pace for her, keeping just slightly ahead but not so far she’d feel like he was leading her. When they came to the stairs, his hand hovered near her lower back without actually touching it—protective but respectful of her space.
Claire noticed all of it. Filed it away. She told herself it was a habit—she’d been this way since her encounter with Lily’s killer.
Or maybe she was just a woman noticing a man who made her pulse spike.
The cafeteria was industrial but comfortable—stainless steel appliances, long tables, that particular smell of a commercial kitchen. Dim security lighting cast everything in soft shadows.
Wolf moved to a cabinet and pulled it open, revealing an impressive selection of tea. “Chamomile? Earl Grey? Green?” He glanced back at her. “Or do you need something stronger? I think Hawk hides the good stuff somewhere.”
“Chamomile’s fine. I’d like to sleep eventually.”
He pulled down a box, filled an electric kettle with water, and set it to boil. His movements were efficient, economical. He knew exactly where everything was.
Then he opened another cabinet, rummaged for a moment, and emerged with a package of cookies.
“Chocolate chip.” He set them on the counter. “Hawk’s personal stash, but don’t tell him I raided it.”
Claire found herself smiling. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
She watched him work—this man who’d been all tactical assessment and clipped commands during the day was now casually making her tea and stealing cookies. The shift was… surprising.
Appealing.
He caught her staring. “What?”
“Nothing. I didn’t peg you for the domestic type.”
“I can make tea without burning down a building.” He grabbed two mugs from another cabinet. “Low bar, but I clear it.”
“Impressive résumé.”
Was that almost a smile? Hard to tell in the dim light.
The kettle whistled. Wolf poured water over the tea bags and brought both mugs to the nearest table. He set the cookies between them and sat down across from her—close enough to feel intimate, far enough to maintain distance.
Claire wrapped her hands around the warm mug, inhaling the faint but familiar scent of chamomile and honey. “Thank you.”
“Can’t have my protectee dying of dehydration.”
“Pretty sure that’s not how dehydration works.”
“I’m a SEAL, not a doctor.”
There. Definitely almost a smile that time.
Claire took a sip, letting the silence settle. He seemed comfortable with silence. Another thing she logged into her mental file on him. “So. Going off mission. What happened?”
Wolf’s expression shuttered. He reached for a cookie and broke it in half. “What makes you think I’ll tell you?”
“Because you’re here. You could have told me to go back to bed.”
“You’re my protectee. You requested an escort to the cafeteria for tea. That’s my job.”
“Right. Your job.” She studied him over her mug. “Except Grizzly was already on night watch. He could have brought me. You didn’t have to relieve him.”
Wolf ate half the cookie. Said nothing.
Claire tried a different approach. “You said you went off mission and did something your bosses didn’t appreciate. But you also said Shadow Point does the same thing—operates outside official channels when the system’s too slow.”
“Your point?”
“My point is that you didn’t get discharged because you did something wrong. My guess is you got discharged because you did something right that your superiors couldn’t officially sanction.” She leaned forward slightly. “What was it?”
He was quiet for a long moment. “I don’t talk about it.”
“Are you ashamed?”
“What?” His expression was a mix of outrage and irritation. “No.”
“Is it classified?”
He sighed. “Technically, no. No one knows exactly what I did. There’s no record of it, no witnesses.”
She mulled that over. “You’re just saying that so I won’t go digging and find out through my vast and extensive resources. I mean, I have the clearance and the right to investigate anyone who’s guarding me, don’t I?” Of course, she’d have to learn his real name, but she could if she really wanted to, and they both knew it.
Another sigh. His eyes locked on hers, more irritated now. “On one of my assignments, local women were disappearing from villages near our operational area. Turning up dead. Tortured.”
Claire’s chest tightened. She set down her tea, hands suddenly shaking. “And?”
“And I tracked the killer. I went off mission for twelve hours. When I came back, the women stopped disappearing.” His voice was flat. Emotionless.
“Jesus. You…”
He stared at the half of uneaten cookie. “I won’t cop to anything, so don’t ask.”
“They suspected, didn’t they? Your CO? But they must not have had proof, so they discharged you without a court-martial.”
“I could have fought it. They didn’t have any proof, but I saw the way they looked at me. Like they couldn’t trust me anymore. Didn’t matter that I’d done an honorable thing.”
Her finger slid around the edge of the cup. “You broke the rules. They can’t have a SEAL going rogue.”
He met her eyes, his hard. “No, not even if going rogue saves lives.”
Claire understood. How many times had she wanted to cross lines the FBI wouldn’t let her cross? How many predators had she watched walk because of technicalities, jurisdictional issues, bureaucratic delays? “That’s why you’re here,” she said quietly. “Shadow Point. Doing what the system won’t let you do.”
He continued to study her, but the hardness left his expression. He seemed more…curious. Interested. “Maybe.”
She took a sip of tea. “For what it’s worth? I think you did the right thing.”
His eyes sharpened. “I’m surprised to hear you say that.”
She straightened her spine. “Making assumptions about me?”
“Never. Assumptions get people killed.”
The temperature between them seemed charged. Anticipatory. Neither said a word. They just…stared at each other.
“Then I’ll refrain from making any further ones about you,” she said, sneaking his broken cookie.
Wolf was quiet for another moment, then he relaxed slightly and chuckled. “Your assumptions might be accurate. I suspect you’re so good at your job that profiling people like me comes easy.”
Her cheeks heated at the compliment. Then they heated even more from embarrassment. What was wrong with her? People told her all the time that she was an expert at her job, at profiling. Why did the words coming from him seem to carry so much more weight?
She wanted to ask how he could be so sure she was good at her job. They’d known each other for less than a day. But the moment felt fragile, and she didn’t want to break it. “What about before the Navy?” she asked instead. “You have family?”
He tensed again. Sore topic. “Dad was military. He taught me to shoot when I was eight, and he and Mom divorced when I was ten. Mom remarried and moved to D.C. when I was a teenager. I stayed with my dad in Virginia.”
“That must have been hard.”
“It was what it was.”
Deflecting. She recognized the tactic. “Any siblings?”
The pause was too long. His hand tightened around his mug. “A sister,” he said finally. “Half-sister, technically. I rarely got to see her.”
“Where is she now? Does she live around here?”
His throat worked. He gripped the handle of his mug tighter. “She passed when I was still a teenager.”
Claire’s chest went tight. She’d meant to create an easy rapport with him, not dredge up bad memories. “I’m so sorry.” She knew that pain. Knew what it meant to lose someone young. To spend the rest of your life wondering if you could have saved them. “What was her name?” The question came out before she could stop it.
Wolf’s jaw clenched. He cleared his throat and looked away. “What about you?” His voice was rough now. “What made you join the FBI?”
She’d gone too far. He wanted to turn the spotlight off himself. Fair enough.
“My best friend Lily was murdered when we were fourteen. We’d been friends since we were in second grade. She was… everything. Bright, funny, fearless.” Claire stared into her tea. “We were walking home from a movie. A man tried to grab both of us. I fought—broke my arm, ended up with a concussion trying to stop him. I got away, but he took her.” She drew in a breath, let it out slowly. “They found her three days later.”
The words were clinical. Detached. The only way she could say them.
Wolf said nothing, but she sensed his empathy.
“I was useless,” she went on. “I couldn’t save her. Couldn’t even give the police a good description of the guy. The head injury scrambled my memory of his face.” She looked up. “So I decided to become someone who could save people. Someone who hunts men like him.”
“You were fourteen, and you fought a grown man.” Wolf leaned forward. “That’s not useless. That’s brave.”
“I lost her.”
“You did what you could.” The intensity in his voice caught her off guard. “That matters, Claire.”
Something in his voice, the way he said her name—Claire’s chest felt too tight.
“Lily would be proud of you,” he said.
The certainty in his words stopped her. “But I let her down.”
“You were a girl attacked by a monster. You didn’t let anyone down.”
She pushed the cup away. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m doing this for her or for me.”
“Does it matter? You’re saving lives either way.”
“But am I? Three women are dead. The Countdown Killer is still out there. I’m in Montana drinking tea while—”
“While staying alive and helping your team catch him.” Wolf leaned in another inch, close enough that she could see tiny gold flecks in his eyes. “Your job right now is to survive and go on to hunt other killers.”
“What if that’s not enough?”
“It’s everything.”
They stared at each other across the table, tea and cookies forgotten. The kitchen felt smaller. Warmer.
Claire was hyperaware of how close he was. The intensity in his gaze. The way his jaw tightened like he was holding himself back from…something. Her eyes dropped to his mouth, just for a second.
His phone buzzed. The spell broke.
He checked his screen. His whole body went rigid.
“What?” Claire asked, instinct driving her to stand. “What is it?”
He didn’t answer. He stood and moved to the window with his hand on his weapon.
“Wolf?”
He turned and showed her the screen. A message had come from Lynx. Her body shook as the words registered.
Stalker just posted online. ‘Found you, Claire. Montana looks good on you.’
The world tilted. Claire’s hands went numb. “He knows.” Her voice came from somewhere far away. “He knows I’m here.”
Wolf was already moving, radio in hand. “Wolf to all units. Compound lockdown. Paperclip is compromised. I repeat, Paperclip is compromised.”
Static crackled. “Lynx here. Copy that.”
“Grizzly copies.”
“Hawk copies.”
Wolf turned to her, all softness gone. This was the operator now. The weapon. “Your room. Now.”
Claire moved on shaky legs, rushing beside him down the hallway, her mind racing.
The Countdown Killer had found her. Across the country, in a classified location, with every security measure in place—he’d found her.
How? How was that even possible?
Three women were dead. She was next on his list, and the only thing standing between her and the monster who’d been hunting her was a man she’d known for less than twenty-four hours.
A man who made her feel safer than she had in fifteen years.
A man whose eyes held secrets she couldn’t name.
They reached her door. Wolf swept the room—windows, closet, bathroom. Checked locks. Tested window seals.
“Stay here,” he said. “Lock the door. Don’t open it for anyone but me or Dr. Montgomery. Understand?”
Claire nodded. “He’s coming, isn’t he? He’s going to get me.”
Wolf’s jaw tightened. His eyes met hers. Steel and stone and something that looked like a promise. “He’ll have to go through me first.”
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Don’t miss the next chapter!
Misty
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