Sage snickered when they came to a stop and shot him an upward glance.
“What?” Sage asked innocently.
Law huffed a quiet breath, shaking his head.
“Daddy,” Sage teased, snickering.
Law swiped a hand at the smartass, but Sage dodged away with a laugh.
“I’m old enough,” Law reminded the techie.
Sage sobered and tipped his head, giving him the once-over from a few feet away.
Law stood patiently. He made no excuses for who he was—never had and never would. He thought he looked damned good for his age and stayed in shape. Their age difference was significant—almost twenty-three years.
“Why would our age difference matter?” Sage asked, stepping back to his side.
Law frowned. Was Sage asking because he’d never pictured them together—or because he didn’t mind the difference? He opened his mouth to ask when the crowd shifted, someone bumped his shoulder as they pushed past, and the moment broke before it could settle.
Winter’s voice cut in low and urgent.
“We’re on.”
Law moved without thinking, crowding Sage toward the exit, attention split between the shift around them and the way Sage fit easily into his stride—fast, compact, all coiled energy as they hit the night.
Law didn’t hesitate. He stayed close, already accounting for angles, timing, and the one variable he wasn’t willing to lose.
Sage burst out of the coffee shop into a June night that hadn’t quite cooled yet.
Southern California was predictable like that. Warm pavement, too many people still wandering around after dark.
Students scattered across the quad, shrieking as the chase blew through them. Backpacks swung. A phone clattered on the concrete. Someone dove out of the way.
Stealth had officially left the building.
Which internally cracked him up because—yeah. Assassins.
He swallowed back a snort and charged forward with Law at his side, his mind already sketching the exits.
Campus floodlights washed everything in sterile white, too bright and not bright enough at the same time. Shadows pooled under trees and along the brick buildings lining the courtyard. Great for cameras. Terrible for depth perception.
The suspect bolted across open grass and cut hard across the main walkway.
A girl stepped backward without looking, earbuds in, laughing at something on her phone.
Sage saw it a split second before impact. Perfect timing.
He veered, caught her backpack strap, and hauled her clear as the suspect barreled past where she’d been standing.
“Careful,” he said, already releasing her.
She stared at him, stunned.
He was gone before she could process it, cutting left just as the suspect did.
No thought went into it—his body simply read the weight shift, the suspect’s shoulders dipping toward the narrower corridor between buildings a fraction too early. He adjusted, boots striking pavement in tight rhythm, breath steady.
“Angle’s closing,” he muttered into comms.
