Chapter Thirty-Two
They moved through fast and hard, filling the space before anything inside could catch up. Gunfire snapped once—twice—cutting off just as quickly as it started. Bodies dropped.
The air burned with gunpowder, biting at the back of Sage’s throat.
Syx grunted, hit with something, but kept moving.
“Well, shit,” Winter hissed, holding his arm where a bullet had cleaved through the upper skin.
“Always getting shot,” Memphis muttered, his silencer issuing a soft whomp as another perp dropped.
Silence followed close behind. Echoed once. Then nothing.
The ringing in Sage’s ears thinned, leaving the space too clear.
Everything stopped.
Even his breathing slowed.
Sage stepped forward, his focus locking onto one man.
Daniel Voss stood at the far end of the suite with three armed men.
Same suit. Same casual attitude.
Like he owned the fucking world.
Yeah… no.
Sage’s gaze locked on him—and held, everything else falling away as the details resolved.
Not the suit. Not the stance.
His face. Lines he didn’t remember, cut deeper now, set in. Time hadn’t been kind. The overhead lights made it worse—showing an age that hadn’t been there before.
It showed in the corners of his eyes, the pull at his mouth, the way the years had settled into him instead of sharpening him.
Not a myth.
Not untouchable.
Just a man.
Still, Voss didn’t move. Surprise flickered once through his dead brown gaze, then disappeared just as fast.
Guns came up across the room in the same breath—Law, Black, Rip, Memphis—clean lines, no overlap, no hesitation.
The shift was silent, practiced, final.
Nowhere to go.
No angle left.
Voss’s gaze moved over them slowly, like he was taking inventory instead of staring down a firing line, a faint smile touching his mouth like he already knew how this ended.
“Well, well,” Voss said.
No one answered.
That didn’t slow him.
“I have to say,” he went on, voice smooth, like this was a conversation and not a room full of guns aimed at his chest, “I expected better of you. All that talent, all that wasted potential.”
His voice grated. Too smooth. Too sure.
Boston snorted. “Oh, here we go.”
Voss didn’t even look at him.
“You don’t even realize it yet, do you?” Voss continued, gaze sliding back to Sage, then to Law. “This is the part where you stop fighting and start thinking. You’re good—better than most of what’s out there—but you’re working for the wrong side.”
“Pretty sure we’re doing just fine,” Boston shot back.
“You’re cornered,” Voss said, like Boston hadn’t spoken at all. “Every exit covered. My men have this place locked down from top to bottom. There’s nowhere left for you to go.”
Voss tapped a handgun once against his thigh, idle, like it was part of the conversation.
The soft tap cut through the quiet.
Sage didn’t move.
Didn’t blink.
Didn’t bother looking at anyone else.
Voss smiled wider, mistaking his stillness.
“But it doesn’t have to end like this,” he said. “You come with me, you walk out of here alive. I could use people like you. All of you.”
Boston barked a laugh. “Use us? Man, you couldn’t even keep track of your own guys.”
That got a flicker—brief, annoyed—but Voss pushed through it.
“Think bigger,” he said, voice sharpening just a touch. “Money, control, freedom. No oversight. No leash. You answer to me, and that’s it.”
“Hard pass,” Boston said. “You’re not exactly selling it.”
Voss’s eyes cut to him then, irritation finally breaking through. “You’d do well to know when to keep your mouth shut.”
Rip took one move forward, Voss stilled, suddenly taking the big man’s measure.
Boston tipped his head with a slow smirk. “You’d do well to know when to shut the fuck up.”
A couple of the other guys shifted—barely there, suppressed—but the edge was there now.
Tension pulled tight across the room.
Unfazed. Voss didn’t see it.
Didn’t feel it.
He kept going.
“Last chance,” he said, voice dropping, confidence settling back in like it had never left. “You don’t walk out of here without me. That’s not a threat—it’s just how this ends.”
Sage watched him.
Listened.
Let him talk.
Every word just…noise now.
Every word…confirming it.
Voss thought he was still running this.
Still holding the room.
Still in control.
Sage stepped forward. Close enough to see the pulse in his throat.
Voss’s hand twitched—going for the gun at his side—
“Not anymore.”
The blade came up in the same motion—no hesitation, no warning—clean across Voss’s throat.
A sharp line.
Then red.
Warm. Immediate.
Voss’s words cut off mid-breath, the sound breaking into nothing as his hand came up too late, fingers slipping against his own blood.
The team quickly subdued the three other perps.
Voss’s shocked gaze held his.
The man staggered once. Then dropped.
Silence hit hard.
Heavier than the gunfire.
No one moved.
Not right away.
The room held it—everything that had been building, everything that had just ended—settling into something still and final.
“Cool, exactly how I would have done it,” Boston told him.
Rip sighed and wrapped an arm around Boston’s neck, dragging him back against him.
“Be quiet for once,” Rip muttered into Boston’s dark curls.
Micah was crouched by Syx, checking the gunshot to his side while Black hovered, one hand in the man’s hair.
“It’s just a graze,” Syx hissed.
Memphis was bitching at Winter again for getting shot.
“Can’t believe you got shot again.”
“All in a day’s work,” Winter grimaced.
All of it faded.
Sage didn’t look away from Voss.
Didn’t step back.
Didn’t say a word.
Behind him, Law stayed exactly where he was.
Close.
Steady.
There were voices somewhere outside—boots, movement, someone calling out—but it didn’t touch the space inside the room.
Nothing but this moment held for one long beat.
Voss lay still.
And it was done.
Sage’s fingers loosened on the blade without him thinking about it.
Not a release. Just…less force.
The tension that had been wound tight through his shoulders didn’t snap—didn’t break—just settled, shifting into something quieter.
Law didn’t move.
Didn’t speak.
The space between them stayed close. Solid. Unbroken.
More voices outside now. Closer.
Boots in the hall. Orders low and controlled.
It still didn’t reach him.
Sage’s gaze stayed where it was for another second—two—before it shifted, slow, deliberate, taking in the room like it finally existed again.
Nothing left to do.
Nothing left to take.
He didn’t look back at Voss.
And he didn’t need to.