He turned toward the door, already moving.
The house had gone quiet.
Not empty—just thinner. Less movement, fewer voices, the kind of stillness that settled in after a team split and left everything just a little off balance.
The air felt different, too—heavier, like it had nowhere to go now that Sage was gone.
Law stood near the kitchen island, one hand braced against the edge, eyes on the darkened screens across the room. Feeds still running. Audio low. Nothing immediate was pulling his focus.
Too quiet.
Buckshot paced once across the floor, nails clicking against tile, then stopped near the front door, ears up, body angled like he was listening for something that hadn’t come through yet. After a moment, the dog circled back with a whine.
Law ran a hand over his ears.
“I know, boy,” he said quietly. “I miss him too.”
Buckshot didn’t settle.
His head stayed angled toward the door, muscles tight under his coat, attention fixed somewhere outside the house.
The silence pressed in around them, broken only by the faint hum of electronics and Buckshot’s restless movement.
Law’s phone buzzed against the counter.
Buckshot reacted first—head snapping toward the sound, body shifting, alert.
Law picked it up.
“Sir?”
Viper didn’t waste time.
“Sage is gone.”
Something in Law’s chest tightened, not panic—just pressure, immediate and controlled.
Law didn’t move.
“When?”
A beat on the other end.
“Boston said ten minutes. Maybe less.”
“Where were they?”
“In the duplex with the deceased. Sage worked the scene—fast. Then Boston says he just… vanished.”
Law’s gaze dropped briefly to the floor, already mapping it out.
His grip on the phone tightened, knuckles whitening for a second before easing again.
“I want you there. It’s an L.A. duplex. I’ll send you the address.”
Law shot Black a quick glance.
“I’ll hold the scene here,” Black said.
