Chapter Thirty
The first body hit the carpet before the echo finished.
Another dropped hard against the wall, leaving a smear as he slid. Gunfire cracked down the hallway—sharp, contained, controlled.
Sage moved through it without breaking stride.
Law was already there—one step ahead, one step to the side—covering angles Sage didn’t have to think about. Black and Micah closed in tight behind them, formation instinctive, practiced.
No hesitation. No calls.
Just movement.
A man staggered out of a side corridor, weapon half-raised.
He didn’t get the shot off.
This shit was unreal.
Not only had Daniel Voss brought his own men, but he’d also hired muscle. Mercenaries. The air tasted like smoke and metal, thick at the back of Sage’s throat.
Sage slipped his knife from the sheath at his back. He’d run out of ammo a few moments ago. The weight of the blade settled into his palm—familiar, steady.
Footsteps pounded somewhere below, echoing up through the structure.
“We’ll take the other set of stairs,” Black said.
“Stay dark.”
Black nodded, and Micah gave Sage a brief, tight hug. Micah’s grip was quick, firm—heat and pressure, gone too fast.
“Be careful,” Sage whispered. His voice barely carried past them.
“You too,” Micah whispered back and followed after Black.
The high-rise had stairs on every side. Which was a good thing, but made coverage that much harder.
They were stretched thin. Too many angles. Not enough bodies.
A few room doors stood open. Some with the occupants dead or wounded. Blood hit sharp in the air, copper and thick.
Elevators were out. Dead. Silent.
Voss and his men were trying to box them in via the stairwells. Herding them.
Just then, Noah melted from the dark with Mac at his back. Frost and Seth close behind, watching the back hallway. Shadows broke around them, reforming as they moved.
They ducked into an open doorway of a suite.
Smoke filled the hallway. Red emergency lights flickered. The light strobed across faces, turning everything jagged and unreal.
“What’s the plan?” Mac asked.
“We’re going straight down the stairs and taking out whoever gets in our way,” Law growled, easing open the stairwell door. Sage slipped in behind the man’s larger frame. Law blocked most of the space—solid, immovable.
The light inside the stairwell blinked like a strobe—the backup generators were working. Each pulse cut the space into fragments.
“Pegasus should have contacted Genesis and local PD by now and are surrounding the area,” Mac said.
“Seriously?” Sage frowned. “But the comms are dead.”
The four of them slipped into the small stairwell entry. Frost and Seth hung back and were soon gone. Their presence vanished into the dark like they’d never been there.
“Yeah, but Giovani Rossi is Noah’s dad.” Mac reached out and lifted Noah’s wrist. A small, thin leather band circled his wrist, covering what looked like a row of scars. More importantly, the tiny gem attached to the strap was glowing. A faint pulse of light, steady despite everything else.
“What kind of high-tech tracker is this?” Sage took Noah’s wrist. The band was warm under his fingers.
“I dunno. Jordan and Seth designed them for the team to wear.” Noah shot Mac a dark look. “Mac would have one too if he wasn’t so stubborn.”
“Hey,” Mac argued. “My wrists are too big for bracelets.”
Noah squinted. “It’s not a bracelet.”
“And I’m glad for it,” Mac murmured, bringing Noah’s wrist to his lips. The moment was quick, almost out of place there.
Law started down the stairs, and Sage followed. Boots hitting metal, echoing tight in the enclosed space.
He didn’t like it. Too narrow. Law and Mac—big targets. No room to move. No way to break the line of sight.
“Can you take that out?” Sage pointed to the strobe.
Noah turned and the soft whomp of his silencer, shot out the strobe—plunging them into darkness—immediate and absolute.
A shoe scuffed on the stairs below. More behind it. Mercenaries—too heavy, too loud.
Voss’s own men worried him the most.
Assassins.
Like him.
The darkness settled in after the shot—thick, absolute—but it didn’t slow them.
Law kept moving, steady, deliberate, taking the steps like he could see them.
Sage stayed tight at his back, one hand brushing the rail, tracking distance by feel and sound. The metal was cold under his palm, damp with condensation. Boots hit metal below—more of them now, spacing even, not rushing.
They weren’t chasing.
They were positioning.
A heavy clang echoed from somewhere above—distant, but close enough to carry down the stairs.
Then another.
Doors.
Sage’s head tilted slightly, listening as the sound traveled through the structure. A tight coil settled low in his chest—familiar, not fear, just awareness locking in.
“Stairwells,” he said under his breath. “He’s sealing them.”
The air shifted a second later—subtle, mechanical. A low hum bled through the walls, not part of the original system. It carried a faint, stale heat with it—ventilation forced where it shouldn’t be.
Law didn’t break stride.
“Then we don’t stop.”
No hesitation. No adjustment.
Sage’s grip tightened on the knife, the metal cool and steady in his hand as he listened past the dark.
Footsteps below.
More above now too.
Layered.
Sage exhaled once, slow, a faint edge to it.
“Yeah,” Law murmured. “He’s running this.”
“We’re not walking into anything,” Mac rumbled.
“We’re already inside it,” Sage said.
A shot cracked from below—closer now.
Not wild.
Placed.
The round sparked off the railing near Law’s shoulder, metal ringing sharply in the confined space.
They weren’t firing blind.
They were reading the steps.
Sage shifted left without thinking, angling off Law’s back, knife ready, eyes tracking the dark where the sound had come from.
Another shot—higher this time.
From above.
Sage’s head snapped up.
“Two levels,” he said.
A man moved through the shadows below—fast, quiet, weapon up but not rushed.
Different from the others.
Sage saw it immediately.
Not muscle.
Training.
The man didn’t hesitate on the step—didn’t check his corners.
He already knew where they’d be.
Sage’s grip tightened.
“Voss’s, man,” he said low.
Above them, another figure shifted—just a glimpse between levels before disappearing again.
They weren’t pushing.
They were holding.
Waiting for the space to close.
Sage felt it lock into place.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “He’s got us flanked.”
Sage put a hand on Law’s arm when he raised his weapon.
“Hang on,” he whispered for Law’s ears alone.
The assassin on the stairs smirked and pressed a finger to his ear.
“Got them, boss.”