Like he was trying to hold the line against the impossible.
The door opened again, quieter this time.
Law stepped in first, posture straight, expression unreadable. Sage followed close behind, tablet tucked under his arm, curls a mess like he’d been running numbers hard and fast.
Syx and Vale remained in the hallway—visible through the narrow glass panel in the door. Syx leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, steady as stone. Vale stood a few feet off, watchful, elegant even at rest, eyes tracking the corridor as nothing escaped him.
Sage’s gaze flicked to the bandage at Titus’s side. “Vitals are good,” he said before anyone asked. “Security’s scrubbed. No flags. Nothing leaves this building.”
Law gave a single nod, eyes on Viper. “Perimeter’s clean. We’re clear to move when he is. John’s house has been taken care of.”
“Rip and Boston?” Titus asked.
“I have no clue,” Law said, shaking his head as he shot Viper a quick look.
Viper acknowledged it with a glance. Nothing more.
Sage stepped closer and met Titus’s eyes. “You scared the hell out of us all,” he added quietly.
Law shot him a look.
Sage shrugged. “What? He did.”
“Come on,” Law said, catching Sage lightly by the wrist and drawing him toward the open door.
Then they were gone, the door closing softly behind them—Syx and Vale already falling back into motion in the hallway, as if they’d never stopped watching.
Titus swung his legs once, deliberately casual.
“So,” he said lightly. “Guess I’m benched.”
Nothing.
“Do I get a bell?” he added. “Or are you just going to glare at me until I behave?”
Still nothing.
He kept going—not because he didn’t take it seriously, but because he did. Because if he didn’t break the pressure, it would crush them both.
“You were shot.”
The words were quiet. Controlled. Barely restrained.
Titus blinked. “And?”
That did it.
Viper’s jaw flexed. There—the tell. The crack in the armor. The man’s eyes cut to him, sharp and dark, carrying something raw he didn’t let surface often.
Titus felt it hit anyway.
“I’ve been stabbed,” Titus said, easing upright. “Burned. Thrown off things taller than this hospital. This is a scratch.”
“You bled out in front of me.”
The room went dead still.
That wasn’t an accusation.
