Something about this didn’t track.
Voices carried from room to room, low and clipped—the kind that came from people working around each other without needing direction. Boots crossed hardwood in steady patterns. Someone moved through the kitchen. A deputy’s radio crackled faintly somewhere deeper in the house before going quiet again.
The air smelled faintly of powder and something coppery beneath it. Not strong enough to choke the room, just enough to sit in the back of the throat and remind you what had already happened here.
It sat heavy against his skin, warm from too many bodies moving through it, carrying the aftermath with it.
It wasn’t loud—but it wasn’t quiet either. The kind of space that never fully settled.
Across from him, the photo still sat in Sage’s hands.
The deceased, Cain, easy to pick out even in a still image. And the man beside him.
Law’s attention didn’t go to the picture.
It went to Sage.
A fraction of a second later, Sage went still. Not surprise. Not confusion. Recognition.
It hit fast—subtle, but there. A tightening through his frame like something had just locked into place.
Law stepped closer, not enough to crowd, just enough to close the space between them.
Close enough to feel the heat off him.
“You know him.” Law flicked a finger at the other man in the photo.
Sage didn’t look up right away. His gaze stayed on the photo a beat longer, like he was confirming something for himself before he gave it out.
“Yeah.” Flat. “Rook.”
“So, this is Rook,” Law murmured.
The name settled into the room.
“Damn it, Cain. What the hell did you get yourself into?” Sage muttered at the deceased man.
Memphis huffed under his breath, shifting closer to look at the photo.
Micah moved too, his gaze flicking from the picture to Sage.
“You knew Adrian. You know Cain. You running a fan club I don’t know about?” Micah asked lightly. “Or do I need to start worrying you’ve got an enemy, buddy?”
There was a faint thread of humor in it—just enough to keep it from landing hard.
Sage didn’t answer right away.
He went still.
Not obvious. Not dramatic. Just a quiet lock in his shoulders, a fraction too tight to pass as nothing.
Law caught it.
The room kept moving around them—voices, footsteps, someone crossing behind him—but that moment held, thin and tight.
Like everything else blurred around it and this didn’t.
Sage’s gaze stayed on the photo.
