“It didn’t work. I sent in Erebus after Stone was shot. They can’t find Titus.”
“No shit?” Rip sounded shocked. Which was understandable—Erebus assassins were the best of the best.
“Titus is mine,” Viper’s voice fell like a crack of a whip. “Genesis will take him down.”
Plus, he had his own question for Titus.Why had the guy acted like they hadn’t met before?
“This isn’t a case of whose dick is bigger,” Winter began.
Dave held up a hand, cutting off Winter’s words. Winter stopped immediately, jaw tightening, but he gave a short nod and sat back. Whatever his opinion, Dave was a leader he respected.
“What do you see, Viper?” Dave motioned to Sparrow’s spread on the desk.
Viper tapped the map with one blunt finger. “Sparrow’s intel says Titus is in California and tied into the same ports. Same arteries. Only this time, he’s not moving shipping containers. He’s building a chain,” Viper said, refocusing everyone on the spread.
“Then that’s where we strike,” Dave said, his tone flat and final.
The room stayed locked on the map, every man bracing for the fight ahead.
By late afternoon, the front doors opened, and sunlight caught on the slight figure stepping in.
From the hallway, Dave watched Sage move with quiet wariness, a duffel slung over one shoulder. The young man’s frame was almost skinny but steady, curls of bright blond hair fell into sharp green eyes. There was a stillness about him—not hesitation—the kind honed by a life shaped through survival.
Viper followed two steps behind, presence heavy, watchful. Not protective—Viper didn’t do protective—but Dave knew he had been the one to pull Sage in from the Nevada ranch, which made him Viper’s responsibility. Sage might answer to YA and Azrael, but Dave remembered Azrael being clear: They were all to keep an eye on him.
Azrael was a pistol and never lost a moment to speak his mind, and this time was no exception.
Law leaned against the wall near Dave, a grin sliding into place the moment Sage crossed the threshold. “Well, look what the desert dragged in.”
Sage arched a brow. “You staring, or trying to remember my name?”
“I remember,” Law drawled. “Just not sure you remember me.”
Sage brushed past, duffel thumping against his leg. “Not your type.”
Law smirked, whiskey eyes bright, voice raspy. “You don’t know my type.”
“Don’t need to,” Sage said, dry as bone. “You talk too much to be dangerous.”
Viper’s gaze flicked once between them, lips twitching, but he said nothing.
Sage ignored Law, dropping his overnight bag by the wall, and he moved deeper into the house without another word.
The war room sat deep in the estate’s old wing, a bunker-like space built for strategy, its walls lined with maps and comms equipment.
When the last man filed into the room, Sage turned to Dave and set a folder on the table, his voice calm.
“From Morrison’s phone, I got intel that we are dealing with triplets—Titus, Tatum, and Tanis,” Sage said.
“We know that.” Viper frowned.
“That’s right, but for the rest of the room, I’ll continue.” Sage glared, and Viper held up his hands.
“Out of the three brothers, only Tatum and Titus are alive. Tanis is dead—killed by Real. Nothing new there, but it matters because their histories overlap in ways that make clean intel hard to track,” Sage said. “If I had prints or DNA, it might be easier, but I don’t, so…”
“Did you get a photo?” Dave asked.
“Unfortunately, no. They’re very…careful,” Sage said.
