THE WILDER HUNT

CHAPTER ONE

Ruiz showed up at the precinct way earlier than he liked. He preferred mornings that

started with slow coffee and silence—not fluorescent lights buzzing overhead while his

brain was still booting up. But Mara Holland had texted him at 5:42 a.m.:

Need you here, Albert. Now. Don’t bring coffee. Serious.

He’d read it twice. Mara didn’t use the word “serious” unless something was

already spiraling.

He found her in the briefing room, standing rigid beside the whiteboard. Her hair

was still damp, probably from the world’s fastest shower, and she had that wound-up

energy she got whenever something smelled like a setup.

“You look like you slept in a tornado,” Ruiz said, dropping his bag.

Mara didn’t bite. “Look at this.”

She handed him a folder. He opened it and immediately felt his eyebrows rise.

Wilder Family: Internal Investigation Log — Sealed

Three names: Elias Wilder. Leah Wilder. Jonah Wilder.

Great. Just what he needed before dawn—Wilder problems. The family practically

owned half the city’s skyline and acted like they owned the other half too.

Albert closed the folder halfway. “The f**k, Mara? Why am I holding sealed files?”

“Don't be f*****g slow, Bertie. Someone cracked them open last night."

She picked up a marker and tapped her badge number written at the top of the board.

“Using my credentials.”

Ruiz stared at her. “You’re telling me someone broke into the system just to make it

look like you were snooping on the Wilders?”

“Yes.”

“Why the hell?”

“If I knew, I wouldn’t have dragged you out of bed at the c***k of stupid,” she said,

pacing again.

Ruiz let out a slow breath. “Alright. Why the hell were these files sealed in the first

place?”

“Old missing-persons case involving Elias Wilder. It was flimsy. No evidence. But

the family leaned on the department until everyone backed off. Case smothered, file

closed.”

“And someone wants it opened again,” Ruiz said, “and wants you on the case.”

Mara nodded. Her jaw clenched. “And that’s not even the worst part.”

She pulled a small piece of paper from her pocket and pushed it toward him.

Ruiz read it once. Then again.

HE’S GOING TO DIE.

SOMEONE IN THE FAMILY KNOWS.

— A Friend

His stomach dropped a little. “Christ, Mara.”

“What happened?”

“You mean this was in your mailbox?”

“No camera footage around my building. No prints. Don't have a f*****g clue who

dropped it.”

Ruiz rubbed his forehead. “You think it’s tied to the Wilders?”

“The handwriting style matches internal Wilder memos. I checked.”

Ruiz blinked. “You checked… handwriting styles?”

“I’m not f*****g gonna let someone steer me blind.”

He lifted the paper again. “So someone thinks a Wilder is about to kill someone. Or

be killed.”

“Right.”

“And they came to you.”

“That’s what scares me.”

By eight they were holed up in Ruiz’s cramped office, surrounded by open files,

half-finished coffees, and the shared feeling that they were walking toward a storm.

Ruiz looked at the Wilder family tree glowing on his monitor. “Three cousins. Elias

is the empire. CEO, face of the brand. Leah works behind the scenes—HR, strategy,

keeping the company polished. Jonah…” He scrolled. “Jonah doesn’t do much of

anything. Lives off his trust, keeps out of the spotlight.”

“He’s the one with no scandals,” Mara said. “The other two? I could fill a binder.”

Ruiz leaned back. “So, who the hell’s in danger?”

“Hard to say,” Mara said. “But the note wasn’t vague. ‘He’s going to die.’ Someone

knows something.”

Ruiz gave her a long look. “You want to start with Jonah.”

“He’s the outsider. Outsiders see cracks in the walls.”

Ruiz grabbed his jacket. “Alright. Let’s go talk to the quiet Wilder.”

Jonah Wilder lived in a small, messy apartment that smelled faintly of old paint and

burnt toast. He answered the door wearing sweatpants and a hoodie that had seen better

days.

“You’re the detectives?” he asked.

“Yes,” Mara said. “We need to talk.”

Jonah stepped back and let them in. “Ignore the disaster. I ran out of motivation to

pretend I’m a functional adult.”

Ruiz glanced around. Canvases everywhere. Some chaotic, some surprisingly calm.

“You paint?” Ruiz asked.

Jonah shrugged. “Trying to. Mostly I just make expensive messes.”

Mara got right to it. “Your family may be in danger.”

That wiped the humor off Jonah’s face.

“The f**k happened?” he asked quietly.

“We received a message,” Mara said, “warning that someone in your family is going

to die.”

His shoulders tensed, slow and subtle. “All of us have enemies,” he said. “Usually

each other.”

Ruiz crossed his arms. “So let’s start simple. Who’s the liar in the family?”

Jonah let out a short, tired laugh. “Got to be Elias. He lies like he’s allergic to the

truth. He even lies when it’s easier not to.”

“And the other cousin?” Mara asked.

Jonah’s face shifted—something between worry and loyalty. “Leah’s…

complicated. Sensitive. Everything hits her hard. She can see danger where there isn’t

any.”

“And you?”

Jonah rubbed his hands together. “I got out. That’s my whole story.”

“Anything happen recently that could lead to violence?” Ruiz asked.

Jonah opened his mouth. Closed it. Looked away.

“I can’t,” he whispered. “Not yet.”

Mara leaned forward. “Jonah, someone reached out to us because they’re terrified.

Whatever you know—it’s already costing someone.”

He shook his head, panicked. “Please. Come back tonight. I’ll tell you everything. I

just… need time.”

Ruiz glanced at Mara. He’s hiding something.

Mara nodded. “We’ll be back.”

They left the apartment in strained silence.

Then they drove towards the precinct and got busy.

Ruiz went to the sealed folders section and got what he felt he needed.

Halfway down the stairwell of the office, Ruiz’s phone buzzed. He checked it—and

stopped walking.

“What?” Mara asked.

Ruiz swallowed. “That warning… it wasn’t about something that was going to

happen.”

Mara’s eyes narrowed. “Albert, what are you saying?”

He looked up at her.

“Dispatch just reported a body found at the Windsor Hotel. Guest didn’t check out.

Staff opened the door.”

“And?”

Ruiz took a breath.

“It’s Jonah Wilder. He’s dead.”

The stairwell echoed with the words.

Mara grabbed the railing, steadying herself. What the hell did she just hear?? They

had spoken to him less than an hour ago.

Ruiz slid his phone into his pocket. His voice was low.

“That note wasn’t a warning.”

Mara felt her pulse hammering.

“It was a countdown.”