The cold hit sharply against the lingering heat, not enough to cut through it.
Didn’t work. Not even close.
Because he could still feel it.
The pull.
The kiss.
The way Law didn’t need to look at him to make his entire body feel like it was being watched anyway.
The awareness stayed locked in, steady and unrelenting.
Sage turned his head slightly.
Law’s gaze slid to him at the same time.
Not rushed.
Not surprised.
Like he’d known Sage would look.
And for a second—neither of them looked away. The taste of Law’s mouth lingered on his tongue.
It lingered longer than it should have.
This wasn’t a thing.
But it was about to be.
The apartment sat on the edge of Los Angeles, heat already pressing through the glass.
The kind of heat that didn’t break, just settled in and stayed. Beyond the window, the street sagged under it—cracked asphalt, faded lines, oil stains baked into the surface.
A liquor store sign flickered half-lit across the way, buzzing weakly and unevenly. Trash clung to the curb in small piles, plastic and paper pinned in place by the heat and neglect.
A chain-link fence leaned along the lot next door, bent in places where it had been climbed too many times.
Somewhere down the block, voices rose—sharp, tired, already edged with something that could turn.
No breeze. No movement. Just the city sitting heavy and worn-out under the sun.
The air inside sat just as heavy, stale, like it hadn’t moved in days.
It pressed against his lungs on the first breath, as if the room didn’t want anything leaving it.
The place smelled faintly of stale smoke and something chemical that never quite aired out, the kind that clung to the back of your throat if you stayed too long. Cheap blinds rattled gently against the window from an old box fan shoved into the frame, pushing warm night air in without cooling anything.
The fan whined on a low loop, the sound thin and constant, probably running for years.
Rook never understood why his boss rented a dumpy apartment in a suspect part of town.
Nothing about this place said power—just rot and neglect.
He pressed his lips together, staring out the dirty window until the man sitting behind a broken wooden desk cleared his throat.
Just like that, Rook snapped back.
