The smell of blood was stronger here, thick enough to register with every breath. It overrode everything else, sharp and heavy in the air. Something had obviously gone down.
And then—
Voss.
Leaning back near the desk like he owned the space. Like he’d been waiting for this exact moment. Calm. Not a single wasted movement in him. Nothing about him shifted, even with the tension coiling tight around the space.
Something about the stillness around him felt odd—too deliberate, too composed for the chaos in the room.
Sage didn’t move.
Didn’t speak.
Didn’t need to.
Everything he needed was already in the room.
Ashley’s voice cut through the room before Sage could say a word.
“Why did you kill her? She did nothing to you.”
The words weren’t panicked. But there was heartbreak in them. And something sharp and cutting.
Sage’s attention snapped to her fully.
She wasn’t looking at him.
Her gaze locked on Voss with a kind of focus that didn’t waver, even with her hands bound behind the chair and her shoulders pulled tight from it. Her hair had come loose, strands sticking to her cheek where sweat had dried, but her eyes were clear. Steady. Rage filled.
Accusatory.
The words settled into him a second later, clicking into place with what he’d seen back at the house—Jade on the floor, the cut to her throat, the way it had been done…deliberate. Meant to send a message.
His grip tightened on the knife before easing again.
Sage didn’t move. Didn’t interrupt.
Every dead man deserved some last words.
His hand eased on the knife, feeling its weight, its balance, knowing just how much force would be needed to flick it across the room. The distance measured itself in his head without effort.
Voss didn’t move.
Didn’t shift his stance or glance at the gun in his hand like it mattered.
His attention stayed on Ashley, steady and unhurried, like this was a conversation he’d already had and was just repeating for her benefit.
“She’s dead because of you.”
The words landed flat.
No anger. No edge.
Just fact.
The quiet after them felt heavier than the words themselves. It settled over the room, thick enough to feel.
The fucker used human lives as leverage.
