Sage could feel him there, steady and unshaken, that same quiet presence that hadn’t broken even when everything else had shifted.
Different from the run.
Different from before.
But not separate.
Sage exhaled slowly, letting the last of the chase burn off.
“Yeah,” he said, mostly to himself.
Then, a little louder—
“He chose this alley.”
That got everyone’s attention.
Even Boston stopped talking.
Sage finally turned his head, just enough to catch Law in his peripheral.
Not looking fully.
Just enough.
“Because he knew exactly how to get out of it.”
“Come on,” Law murmured. “Let’s see who he left behind.”
The crime scene was busy when they came back to it.
Harsh white sunlight cut across the yard, spilling through the open doorway of the small house and casting hard, unforgiving shadows along the ground. Phoenix PD still had it locked down—tape up, uniforms posted, radios low but constant in the background.
Same as before.
Only this time, the adrenaline from the chase hadn’t burned off.
He stepped back inside—
the crime scene.
Smell hit him again—metallic, heavy, still fresh enough to sit wrong in the back of his throat.
Chalk lines outlined the body’s position halfway between a couch and the kitchen island.
Died right where he dropped, if Sage had to guess.
Memphis moved off to the left, already scanning the perimeter. Rip angled right. Boston hovered just behind, quieter now but still watching everything. Black disappeared toward the outer edge of the scene, checking lines of sight.
Law stayed at his side when he took the last few steps and stopped.
One of the cops spoke, handing him a file. “Here’s the crime scene photos of the body.”
Sage flipped it open. For a second, it was just a body.
Male. Late twenties, maybe early thirties. Thin frame. Street clothes—worn, layered, nothing that didn’t blend. One arm twisted under him at a bad angle, face turned slightly toward the light.
Then it shifted.
