Chapter Twenty-Eight
The TV cast a low blue glow across the room as Sage flipped it on and cast his laptop screen to it so all could see, the quiet hum of the penthouse settling around them.
Secretary of Defense William Caldwell sat behind his desk, the image sharp and sterile on the screen—sharp lines, ordered space, nothing out of place.
Caldwell didn’t waste time.
“Bring me up to speed.”
Law leaned forward, the chair shifting under him.
“Sage believes Voss is still in L.A.,” Law said, glancing briefly at him before laying out their plan.
Caldwell’s gaze shifted, sharp and assessing, like he was already ten steps ahead of the room.
“I’ve been going through those files,” he said. “He has plenty of people at his disposal.”
Sage stilled slightly at the table.
Law didn’t look at him. “You think he’s mobilized them all.”
“Yes,” Caldwell said. “And I think you’re walking into something bigger than you think.”
Silence settled for half a beat—not uncertainty, just recalibration.
“We’ve split coverage,” Law said. “With this many, we’re running thin.”
“What do you need?”
“More bodies,” Law said. “Pegasus, the rest of Erebus, and more of Genesis.”
“I can have Viper mobilized.”
“I’ve put Erebus on the outskirts, Phoenix running east while we’re taking west. We can have Viper make up the numbers.”
“What about local PD?” Sage asked.
Caldwell checked his watch. “The mayor has already put the word out to stand down unless called. So, they’ll be looking the other way as long as you identify yourselves.”
The SECDEF’s eyes sharpened. “Lock this shit down.”
“Consider it done,” Law said.
Mac leaned forward slightly, forearms on his knees. “If he’s running a network, he’s got layers. Runners, watchers, maybe fallbacks. You’re not just hitting one man.”
“I’m aware,” Caldwell said.
No edge. No heat. Just fact.
Law’s gaze held the screen. “Objective?”
Caldwell didn’t hesitate. “End Voss.”
The room stilled—not in surprise, but in confirmation.
“And his operation,” Caldwell added. “I want it intact where possible.”
Mac’s brow lifted slightly. “You’re looking to roll it.”
“I’m looking to take control of it,” Caldwell said. “Anyone worth keeping—we bring in.”
“Erebus,” Savage said.
Caldwell inclined his head. “They’ll be evaluated. Those who can be used—will be.”
“And the rest?” Frost muttered.
Caldwell didn’t look at him.
“They won’t be a problem.”
That was the end of that.
Law shifted slightly, grounding the room again. “We’ll move when Viper gets here. Keep pressure on all sides—we reset if we have to.”
“Do not reset unless you’re fighting daylight,” Caldwell said. “Momentum matters here.”
Law held his gaze. Not defiant. Not yielding.
“Understood.”
A beat passed—something unspoken but solidifying between them.
“Keep me updated,” Caldwell said.
The screen went dark.
The room didn’t move right away. AC hum faint under the silence.
“That guy’s scary,” Syx muttered, and Boston laughed.
Law exhaled quietly, and all eyes locked on him.
“You heard him. Any objections or comments, speak now.”
The quiet was absolute.
No hesitation. No doubt.
A room full of killers waiting to be pointed in the right direction.
Movement came back slower.
Quieter.
Not the loose chaos from before—this was intention now.
Chairs shifted. Weapons checked. Phones came out. Low voices, clipped and to the point.
No one asked questions. They already had what they needed.
Sage didn’t move. He watched instead.
Mac leaned back, already thinking three steps out. Noah and Frost angled toward each other, talking low. Seth stayed close, eyes tracking everything. Savage didn’t speak—just a slight shift, like he’d already slotted the plan into place.
Boston nudged Syx with his elbow, muttering something under his breath. Micah stayed still, quieter than the rest—but not uncertain.
Ready. Everyone was.
The room felt different now.
Not waiting. Not reacting.
Set.
Like the decision had already been made—and all that was left was execution.
Law stretched, rolled his shoulders, and stood, making his way into the kitchen. He placed his empty cup in the sink, then headed down the hallway toward the bedrooms.
Sage was up and following a second later.
Law didn’t look back.
He moved down the hall and into the bedroom like he already knew Sage would follow.
The door stayed open as Sage caught the shift in light—the dimmer space, quieter, cut off from the hum of the penthouse—before Law pushed it shut behind them.
The click landed.
Sage leaned back against the door for half a second, eyes already on him.
Tracking.
Law had stopped near the edge of the bed, shoulders rolling once—loose. His shirt pulled across his back with the movement, fabric catching along the line of muscle before settling again. Not tension.
Release.
Sage pushed off the door.
Crossed the space slowly.
No hesitation.
Law’s hands flexed once at his sides, like he was shaking something off. His jaw wasn’t tight, but it wasn’t relaxed either.
Sage’s gaze dragged—shoulders, arms, the way the shirt molded over them, the faint shift of breath under it. Taking inventory without meaning to.
Or maybe exactly meaning to.
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
Law looked at him then. Not sharp. Not distant. Present.
“That I want to kiss you.”
Sage huffed softly. “So, what’s stopping you?”
“Nothing,” Law said, a smirk tipping his mouth as he drew him forward.
Something in Sage’s chest eased. He’d been waiting for days. Since Vegas, they hadn’t had a moment alone—only the one long kiss earlier.
Now he wanted more.
The space between them closed easily.
Law’s hand came up, brief and deliberate, brushing his shoulder—solid, grounding. Possessive. Yeah… not subtle. Heat followed the touch, lingering through the fabric.
Law’s head dipped, and Sage tilted his face up. Their mouths touched, held—then pressed. Warm. Firm. Familiar. Law nudged his lips open, and Sage deepened the kiss, breath catching as he tasted him, arms sliding up and around his neck, fingers brushing the short hair at his nape.
He wanted nothing more than to crawl into the big bed behind them and stay there, away from the world for days—but now wasn’t the time.
Sage eased back.
Law’s chest lifted, breath coming a little faster, brushing across Sage’s mouth. Their foreheads met, pressed together—skin warm, grounding—both of them pulling air back in.
“Whatever happens out there, stay close to me,” Law murmured.
Sage smirked.
“I mean it. Stick to me like glue.”
Sage’s mouth twitched. “I’ll be right by your side,” he promised.
Law’s hands tightened—then eased, the shift subtle but there under Sage’s palms.
Sage caught it.
The small tell.
Law was worried.
And he had a right to be.
Voss would throw everything at them to see them dead.
Sage wasn’t going to let that happen.