Chapter 19
Three days later, I’m walking through the main floor of the Obsidian with Dom at my side, discussing revenue projections like we’re running a legitimate business instead of the most dangerous underground fight club in the city.
The normalcy feels strange after everything that’s happened, but I’m learning that this is how our world works—moments of intense violence followed by periods of deceptive calm.
“The Sterling account transferred another fifty thousand this morning,” I’m saying as we approach the main ring, where Axel is training a new fighter.
“Kieran’s keeping his promise about the partnership payments.
He’s working on trying to get his family to accept me, but we’ll see how that goes.
Even if they cut him off entirely, he has enough money… as do I.”
Dom nods, his dark eyes constantly scanning our surroundings even during routine business. “Marcus says the laundering operation is running smoothly. No flags from the feds, no unusual banking activity.”
I’m about to respond when something in his posture changes. His hand finds my arm, fingers tightening in warning.
“What is it?” I ask quietly.
“It’s too quiet,” he murmurs. “Where’s Marcus?”
I glance around, realizing he’s right. Marcus should be at his usual station, monitoring security feeds and communications. Instead, his bank of screens is dark.
“Axel,” I call out, keeping my voice casual. “Where’s Marcus?”
Axel looks up from the fighter he’s coaching, and his wild energy shifts into deadly focus. “Said he was checking the basement storage. That was twenty minutes ago.”
Dom’s hand moves to his gun. “Get behind me.”
“Dom—”
“Now, Raven.”
The lights go out.
Emergency lighting kicks in immediately, bathing everything in an eerie red glow. In the sudden shadows, I see shapes moving—too many shapes coming from too many directions.
“It’s a trap,” Dom growls, drawing his weapon as the first shot rings out.
Chaos erupts around us. Men in tactical gear emerge from positions that should have been impossible to reach undetected—behind the bar, in the VIP boxes, even from the ring itself. This isn’t a random attack. They’ve been inside, waiting, planning.
I see the sniper’s red dot dancing across my chest a split second before Dom sees it too. His reaction is instantaneous and instinctive. He throws himself in front of me just as the rifle cracks.
The bullet meant for my heart hits Dom in the shoulder instead, spinning him around and sending him crashing against the bar. Blood blooms across his shirt as he slides down the polished surface.
“Dom!” I scream, dropping beside him as gunfire erupts around us.
His face is pale but his eyes are focused, one hand pressed to his wound while the other still grips his gun. “Stay down,” he grinds out through clenched teeth.
But I can see more shooters moving in, trying to get a clear shot at us. Axel appears like a ghost, his movements fluid death as he eliminates two attackers before they can fire. His face when he sees Dom bleeding is absolutely murderous.
“How bad?” he asks, sliding into cover beside us.
“Through and through,” Dom manages. “Missed the lung, but I’m losing blood fast.”
Kieran and Marcus burst through a side entrance, both armed and clearly having fought their way in from wherever they’d been ambushed. Marcus’s usually pristine appearance is disheveled, blood splattered across his shirt—not his own, judging by his deadly calm expression.
“Coordinated attack,” Marcus reports tersely, taking position to cover our flank. “They disabled communications first, then moved to eliminate us systematically.”
“How many?” Kieran asks, his ice-blue eyes scanning for threats.
“At least fifteen confirmed,” Axel replies, reloading with practiced efficiency. “Professional grade equipment, military training.”
I’m applying pressure to Dom’s wound, trying to stem the bleeding while my heart pounds with terror. He took that bullet for me. Without hesitation, without thinking, he put his body between me and death.
“You idiot,” I whisper fiercely. “You beautiful, brave idiot.”
Dom’s hand covers mine, his grip surprisingly strong despite the blood loss. “Worth it,” he says simply. “Always worth it.”
The firefight continues around us, my three other men working with deadly coordination to eliminate the remaining threats. When the last attacker falls, the sudden silence is deafening except for Dom’s labored breathing.
“We need to get him to a hospital,” I say, my voice sharper than I intend.
“No hospitals,” Dom tries to argue weakly. “Too exposed—”
“The hell with exposure,” I snap. “You’re bleeding out.”
Marcus is already on his phone, calling his private medical contacts. “Trauma surgeon will meet us at the safe house facility. Fifteen minutes.”
Kieran helps me lift Dom carefully, supporting his weight as we move toward the exit. “How did they get inside?” he asks grimly.
“Someone gave them access codes, security rotations, our exact location at the planned time,” Marcus replies, his analytical mind already working the problem. “We have a traitor.”
I close my eyes. Marcus sniffed around and uncovered the rat from the last attack, but now there’s another one?
The ride to Marcus’s secure medical facility is the longest fifteen minutes of my life. I keep pressure on Dom’s wound while monitoring his breathing, his pulse, the color in his face. He drifts in and out of consciousness, but every time his eyes flutter open, they find mine.
“Still here,” I whisper each time, squeezing his hand. “I’m still here.”
“Good,” he mumbles. “Keep talking. Like your voice.”
So I do. I talk about everything and nothing—our plans for expanding the club, my ideas for new security protocols, even childhood memories of my father. Anything to keep him focused, keep him fighting.
The surgeon Marcus called is waiting when we arrive, a no-nonsense woman who takes one look at Dom and immediately starts barking orders to her small team. They whisk him away to an improvised operating room, leaving me standing in the hallway with blood on my hands and panic clawing at my chest.
“He’ll be fine,” Axel says, but his usual wild confidence is strained. “Dom’s too stubborn to die from something like this.”
“He took a bullet meant for me,” I say numbly. “He didn’t even hesitate.”
“Of course he didn’t,” Kieran replies quietly. “None of us would have.”
The surgery takes three hours. Three hours of pacing, of Marcus working his contacts to trace the attack, of Axel wearing a path in the floor, of Kieran standing motionless by the window like a statue carved from ice and fury.
When the surgeon finally emerges, we all turn toward her like plants seeking sun.
“He’ll live,” she says without preamble. “The bullet missed major arteries and organs. Some muscle damage, but nothing that won’t heal with proper care. He’s strong, and he was lucky.”
The relief that floods through me is so intense I have to sit down. Axel squeezes my shoulder gently.
“Can we see him?” I ask.
“One at a time for now. He’s still heavily sedated, but he should wake up within the hour.”
I go first, of course. Dom looks smaller somehow in the hospital bed, pale against the white sheets with tubes and monitors surrounding him. But his breathing is steady, and when I take his hand, his fingers tighten around mine.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he murmurs without opening his eyes.
“Hey yourself, hero.” My voice cracks despite my efforts to stay strong. “How do you feel?”
“Like I got shot,” he says with a weak attempt at humor. “We both alive?”
“We’re both alive,” I confirm. “All of us are alive, thanks to you.”
His eyes finally open, focusing on my face with obvious effort. “Worth it,” he says again, just like before. “Always be worth it to keep you safe.”
“Dom…” I start, but he cuts me off.
“No regrets, Raven. Never regret protecting you.”
I step into the shower not to get clean—there’s barely any blood on me anymore—but because I need to feel something that isn’t fear.
The water hits my skin like judgment. Hot. Unrelenting. Honest.
For a second, I just stand there, palms braced against the tile, head bowed, letting it scald me. The spray drums against my shoulders and echoes in the hollow places I didn’t know were carved inside me until Dom fell.
He dropped without hesitation. Didn’t flinch. Just moved. One moment I was his responsibility, his priority, his fucking everything, and the next he was bleeding in my arms.
He nearly died because of me.
I squeeze my eyes shut, water mixing with tears I refuse to acknowledge. I’m Raven Blackwood. I don’t cry. I command, I plan, I kill if I have to. But right now, I feel like a fragile thing wrapped in steel armor that’s starting to crack.
What if next time it’s Marcus, who always puts logic before self-preservation?
What if it’s Axel, charging into danger with that reckless fire that makes him impossible not to love?
What if it’s Kieran, torn between the family he was born into and the one he’s choosing?
What if I lose one of them?
The thought claws down my spine like ice. I can’t lose them. Not any of them. We’ve bled together, fought together, loved together. They aren’t just my allies or my lovers.
They’re my home.
The water cools to a more tolerable temperature, but I barely notice. My heartbeat slows as I breathe in the steam, force myself to calm. To focus.
There’s still a war to fight. A city to take. And now… a family to protect.
I reach for the faucet and shut the water off. Tomorrow, we start hunting the men who dared come for us.
But tonight, I let myself feel. Just for a minute.
And then I bury it again.
Over the next few hours, as Dom becomes more alert and the immediate crisis passes, each of my men visits him.
I watch through the glass as Axel sits beside the bed, his usual restless energy subdued to something almost gentle.
Kieran stands at attention like he’s reporting to a commanding officer, but his voice is softer than usual.
Marcus pulls up a chair and speaks quietly, probably filling Dom in on what he’s discovered about the attack.
But it’s when we’re all together in the room that evening that the real conversations happen.
“I’ve identified the leak,” Marcus announces without preamble. “Tommy Schneider, one of the bartenders. Been feeding information to a middleman. I cross-referenced burner numbers from the first attack and found a disturbing overlap.”
“You think the two are connected?” Dom asks sharply.
“It’s more than that,” Marcus replies. “The middleman Tommy used? It’s the same contact Elias Voss used during the first breach. That’s not a coincidence. It’s coordination. Someone’s pulling strings behind the scenes, targeting our soft spots one by one.”
That sick feeling curls low in my stomach again. First Elias, now Tommy—both low-profile, easily overlooked, both with access to the kind of intel you don’t sell unless someone teaches you what to look for.
Someone out there is running a long game.
“Where is he now?” Dom asks, his voice still rough but carrying that dangerous edge that means someone is about to have a very bad day.
“Secured. Waiting for your decision on how to handle it.”
“My decision?” Dom looks around at all of us. “This affects all of us. We decide together.”
It’s a small thing but significant. Even injured, even having just taken a bullet for me, Dom is thinking about our unity.
“He could have gotten Raven killed,” Axel says, his voice carrying barely controlled violence. “There’s only one appropriate response to that.”
“Agreed,” Kieran says coldly, “but we need information first. Who hired him, how long this has been planned, what else they know. This is two traitors now. There cannot be a third.”
“I can get that information,” Marcus offers. “Give me twelve hours with him.”
Axel makes a face but doesn’t object, although I wouldn’t be surprised if he makes his way into the room with Marcus and Tommy.
“And then?” I ask.
Dom’s dark eyes meet mine. “Then we make an example. Anyone who betrays us, anyone who puts you in danger, dies. No exceptions, no mercy.”
The flat finality in his voice should probably disturb me. Instead, it makes me feel safe, protected, cherished in a way I’ve never experienced.
I hadn’t asked Marcus what happened to the first rat. I don’t even know his name. Maybe I don’t need to know all of the details.
“What about the people who hired the mercenaries?” I ask.
“We’re going to hunt them down one by one,” Dom says. “Carefully. No more walking into traps, no more reactive responses. We plan, we prepare, and we destroy them systematically.”
“I’ve already started tracking the money trail,” Marcus adds. “Shell companies but everything leaves traces if you know how to look.”
“Good.” Dom struggles to sit up straighter, wincing but determined. “After today, I’m done playing defense. They want a war? We’ll give them a war they’ll never forget.”
“Dom, you need to rest—” I start.
“I need to protect you,” he corrects firmly. “All of you, but especially you, Raven. Today proved we can’t just react to threats. We have to eliminate them before they get close enough to try something like this again.”
Axel grins, wild and sharp. “Now you’re talking my language. When do we start?”
“As soon as I can walk without falling over,” Dom says. “According to the doctor, should be in about forty-eight hours.”
“Forty-eight hours to plan,” Kieran muses. “That’s enough time to do this right.”
“More than enough,” Marcus agrees. “By the time Dom’s cleared for action, I’ll have a complete list of targets and their vulnerabilities.”
I look around at these four dangerous men—my men—and realize that something fundamental has shifted again.
The attack that was meant to eliminate me and scatter them has instead made them more determined than ever.
Dom taking a bullet meant for me has crystallized something that was already true—we would all die for each other without hesitation.
“Then let’s use the time wisely,” I say. “When we move, I want it to be decisive. I want everyone in this city to understand that touching one of us means facing all of us.”
Dom’s hand finds mine, his grip strong despite everything he’s been through. “They’re going to regret ever hearing the name Blackwood.”
“Or Vega, Frost, Rivera, or Quintana,” I add, including all of them in the promise.
“Together,” Axel says, and it’s not a question.
“Together,” we all agree.
We’re not just allies or lovers or business partners. We’re family. And now everyone who threatened that family is about to discover exactly what that means.