EPILOGUE
RYKER
“It’s time, Knox. Come hell or high water, we’re getting you out of this prison.”
He didn’t look up from the scarred metal table between us. His freshly split knuckles flexed once. When he finally lifted his gaze, something feral burned behind those dead eyes. Something I hadn’t seen in fucking years.
Hope. And it looked lethal on him.
“Yeah. Okay.”
My chair scraped back. “Okay? Jesus Christ, Knox. For years, I’ve been coming here, trying to get you out, and for years, you’ve been telling me to fuck off with my rescue plans.”
“For years, I deserved to be here.” His voice came out like gravel over broken glass. “Now, I can’t afford to be.”
The hairs on my neck stood up. Knox Blackwood didn’t do emotional revelations. He did violence and silence, period.
“What the hell happened?” I pressed.
He dragged a hand down his face, and for a second, I saw through the ink and scars to the man underneath. The one who used to laugh. Who used to give a damn.
The one who’d been rotting alive behind these walls.
“I met someone.”
The words hung there like a lit fuse.
“You met someone. In prison.”
Knox leaned forward, chains rattling against the table. “A woman who sees through concrete and steel and still finds something worth saving. A woman who …” He cut himself off, that muscle in his jaw jumping. “Changed everything.”
“Knox.”
“She’s in danger, Ryker.” The words came out raw, desperate. “Real danger.”
“You can’t protect her from in here.”
“No shit.” His laugh was bitter. “That’s why you’re going to get me out. Once and for all.”
“TWO MINUTES!” The guard’s shout echoed off concrete.
Knox didn’t even flinch. His eyes stayed locked on mine, burning with something that looked a lot like a man ready to start a war.
“She knows about that night,” he said quietly. “About why I’m really in here.”
“You told her the truth?” My voice pitched higher than I intended. Because holy shit. He hadn’t even told the rest of our brothers about this, which meant his feelings for this woman ran deep as hell.
The guard’s hand landed heavy on Knox’s shoulder. Time’s up.
Knox stood slowly. The orange jumpsuit couldn’t hide the predator underneath.
“Tell Blake and Tessa I plan to be out before the baby comes,” he said, voice dropping low enough that only I could hear.
I sat there, stunned, as the pieces clicked into place. Knox Blackwood, the man who’d taken a murder rap without blinking, the man who’d survived years in hell without breaking, had just admitted to the one thing that could destroy him.
Love.
And worse, for the first time since the night Knox went to prison, I realized something terrifying. The look in his eyes, the barely controlled violence, the desperation …
If Knox didn't make parole this time, would he wait for another chance?
Or was he already planning his escape?