“I don’t like you going alone.”
Sage smirked. “I won’t be. Micah and Boston are going with me.”
“Still…” Law said, rougher than he meant it.
Sage smiled. “I’ll be right back. I promise.”
L.A. hit different at midday. Not quieter. Never quieter. Just exposed.
Light came down hard—sun glaring off glass, metal, windshields, bleaching color out of everything it touched. Traffic dragged past in a steady crawl, engines idling hot, horns cutting through the air, bass still thumping somewhere down the block like the city didn’t care what time it was.
Voices carried—too loud, too careless—people who thought the noise made them safe. It didn’t.
Sage stepped out onto the sidewalk, and the city slid over him like an old familiar glove.
Same heat pressing down, not clinging—settling heavy from above, baking into concrete and skin. Same layered smells—oil, exhaust, something fried too long, something sweet underneath it, trying to pretend it belonged.
Same rhythm under his feet, the kind you didn’t hear unless you’d lived inside it.
Nothing had changed.
His gaze moved without stopping, tracking everything out of habit—corners, open doorways, the hard edges where shadows still tried to hold under awnings. A car idling too long at the curb. Two guys arguing just loud enough to draw attention they didn’t want.
No one was looking at him. No one was seeing him.
Good.
Behind him, a vehicle door shut. Boston, then Micah—boots on pavement, familiar weight settling into the space at his back without crowding him.
Boston let out a low whistle under his breath. “God, I don’t miss this place.”
Micah didn’t say anything.
Sage didn’t turn. Didn’t need to.
He already knew where they were, how they were standing, what they were watching. Knew the way Boston’s eyes would be moving—quick, with distaste, taking in everything at once. Knew Micah would be quieter, sharper, reading people instead of places.
Didn’t matter.
They were here.
The street in front of him stretched out like it always had—same cracked pavement, same flickering sign two buildings down, same stretch of nothing pretending to be normal.
His chest tightened as something locked into place—something that had been waiting a long time to click.
Yeah.
He knew this place.
And it knew him right back.
He moved.
Didn’t think about it. Didn’t need to.
His feet hit the sidewalk, pace steady, unhurried—nothing that pulled attention, nothing that invited it.
Left at the corner before the light changed.
