Hands shaking.
Not military.
Not trained.
Not the one pulling the strings.
“You’re done!” I call.
“Drop it!”
He hesitates.
Beast moves first—fast, precise.
The guy fires once.
Wild.
Misses.
Trigger slams into him from behind, driving him into the ground.
Weapon goes flying.
“Got him!”
I close the distance, kicking the gun away, dropping to a knee beside him.
Rip the mask off.
Recognition hits.
Local.
Maintenance.
Town access.
Damn it.
“Told you not to run,” I say coldly.
He’s breathing hard. Eyes wide. Terrified.
Good.
He should be.
Tessa steps in closer.
Careful. Watching.
Smart.
“You know him?” she asks.
“Works maintenance. Town properties.”