Law held his gaze. Not defiant. Not yielding.
“Understood.”
A beat passed—something unspoken but solidifying between them.
“Keep me updated,” Caldwell said.
The screen went dark.
The room didn’t move right away. AC hum faint under the silence.
“That guy’s scary,” Syx muttered, and Boston laughed.
Law exhaled quietly, and all eyes locked on him.
“You heard him. Any objections or comments, speak now.”
The quiet was absolute.
No hesitation. No doubt.
A room full of killers waiting to be pointed in the right direction.
Movement came back slower.
Quieter.
Not the loose chaos from before—this was intention now.
Chairs shifted. Weapons checked. Phones came out. Low voices, clipped and to the point.
No one asked questions. They already had what they needed.
Sage didn’t move. He watched instead.
Mac leaned back, already thinking three steps out. Noah and Frost angled toward each other, talking low. Seth stayed close, eyes tracking everything. Savage didn’t speak—just a slight shift, like he’d already slotted the plan into place.
Boston nudged Syx with his elbow, muttering something under his breath. Micah stayed still, quieter than the rest—but not uncertain.
Ready. Everyone was.
The room felt different now.
Not waiting. Not reacting.
Set.
Like the decision had already been made—and all that was left was execution.
Law stretched, rolled his shoulders, and stood, making his way into the kitchen. He placed his empty cup in the sink, then headed down the hallway toward the bedrooms.
Sage was up and following a second later.
Law didn’t look back.
He moved down the hall and into the bedroom like he already knew Sage would follow.
The door stayed open as Sage caught the shift in light—the dimmer space, quieter, cut off from the hum of the penthouse—before Law pushed it shut behind them.
