His gaze flicked to Law and found those whiskey eyes already on him.
Another one, Sage assumed. Another sicko who’d slipped through the cracks.
He checked the time out of habit.
His meeting would have to wait. That wasn’t ideal, but it couldn’t be helped.
Sliding his hands deeper into his pockets, he stepped closer to Law.
“…for him?” Law asked into the phone.
Something in Sage’s chest tightened before he understood why.
“Copy.” Law lowered the cell but didn’t look away.
Their eyes met.
“There’s a call for you,” Law said.
The smile left without a fight.
Sage didn’t move for a beat.
Then he reached for the phone.
Nightfall Drifters Ranch.
Nevada—Undisclosed location.
The ranch gates slid shut behind them just as the first gray edge of dawn pressed against the horizon. Seven hours on the road after a night that had ended differently than it began. The sky over Nevada was still more shadow than light, the land quiet and wide in that hour before morning properly took hold. Gravel crunched under the tires as Law eased the SUV toward the main house.
No one had spoken much after the cleaners arrived in California. By the time he had turned the SUV east, the campus had already faded.
What hadn’t faded was the pause just before Sage held out his hand for the phone.
Sage hadn’t asked who it was. He’d simply extended his hand. Then he’d gone still—not startled, more like hit. It still bothered Law, the way the brightness drained from those green eyes in a single, measured breath.
Law shut off the engine and looked toward the massive ranch house rising out of the gray wash of dawn.
Sage opened his door immediately, boots hitting gravel before the rest of them moved. No hesitation. No visible strain. Just that same deliberate control he wore like a second skin.He didn’t slam the door. He didn’t rush. He just stood there a moment, facing the stretch of open land beyond the house, shoulders squared to nothing in particular.
Black climbed out behind him. Winter followed. Micah stayed close without crowding—near enough to reach if needed, far enough not to make a show of it.
Sage had said he’d handle the call alone. Law hadn’t argued. He’d just walked to the SUV and opened the door.
No one let their own walk into something like that alone.
The call had come through the ranch’s secure emergency line. Encrypted. Monitored. Logged. One number set aside for the people who mattered enough to bypass protocol—for those who couldn’t reach their own directly.
He had given it to his parents the week he’d moved onto the property, told them if anything ever went wrong—anything—they were to call that number. No hesitation. Most of the team had done the same, those who still had family—parents, siblings, someone important enough to reroute protocol for.
He couldn’t remember Sage ever mentioning anyone who would need it. Not once.
That fact lodged under his ribs somewhere between California and Nevada and refused to leave.
Law stepped around the front of the vehicle, closing the distance to Sage without touching him, just there.
“Who was it?” he asked quietly, coming to stand beside him, close enough to share the quiet without crowding it—not because he needed the answer immediately, but because silence would let the weight settle harder.
