“We’re going to need more than just us.” Sage shook his head.
Syx clicked his fingers like he’d just remembered something. “So we go in like that scene in John Wick where he and that chick with the dogs attack.”
“No,” Memphis sputtered. “It’s more like that one with Beekeeper when Statham goes after the kid who runs the money scam.”
“Children, children,” Winter said from his spot on the couch, rubbing at the back of his head. “It’s definitely like that scene in The Assassin where they do swords in the train.”
“Y’all are crazy,” Memphis argued. “Those are single-man movies. This is more like that movie with Sylvester Stallone.”
Syx and Sage looked at each other. “Expendables!” they said simultaneously.
Law chuckled, shaking his head.
A knock at the door interrupted the lively conversation.
Sage watched them turn from jokers to killers in an instant. It wasn’t subtle—shoulders shifting, eyes sharpening, space tightening. And weapons. Lots of them.
“I’ll get it,” Syx said, leaping to his feet.
Law scowled at the sudden appearance of knives and guns. “Put that shit away.”
Sage bit back a smile as every one of them hid their weapons.
Syx pulled open the door and took an immediate step back.
Focus snapped.
Not quiet like when Erebus had entered the hospital.
Not force like when Genesis walked into a room.
More contained.
Two men stepped inside—both carrying a kind of presence that didn’t need to push to take space.
It just…did.
The first man in was built like a commander—big, solid, dark hair cut short. A scar along his jaw, pale and old. A U.S. Marshal badge hanging on a lanyard.
The second was leaner, quieter. Blond hair brushing his shoulders, gaze constantly moving, assessing.
Law had already filled him in on who they were.
The first man, the one with the dark hair and crystal-blue eyes, was Robert Mackenzie—Mac—a U.S. Marshal from Northern California. He moved like command sat naturally on his shoulders.
The second at his side—Noah Mackenzie—leaner, quieter. An operative from a group called Phoenix, also up north.
They were not brothers.
They were married.
Sage had done his research when Law told him.
Noah was less obvious with the authority, which somehow made him far more dangerous. His golden gaze moved, slow and deliberate, like he’d already mapped the room before anyone noticed he was doing it.
The air in the room tightened, not from tension.
But from the sudden acknowledgment of authority.
