Chapter 4
KNOX
Eleven years left in this concrete coffin, and my lawyer wanted me to apologize for saving my daughter’s life.
Fuck that.
I leaned forward across the metal table in the visiting room. “How many times do I have to say this? I. Won’t. Do. It.”
Unlike most people who visited this hellhole, Ryker didn’t flinch when I invaded his space.
He leaned right back, his finger jabbing the scarred table between us.
“And how many times do I have to tell you that if you don’t show remorse, you’ll serve every last day of your sentence?
That’s eleven more years, Knox. Longer if you get caught doing stupid shit like—”
He stopped. His eyes dropped to my hands.
Shit.
I’d been keeping them under the table since he sat down. But I’d gotten careless when I leaned forward, and now my bandaged knuckles were on full display. And they didn’t exactly scream model prisoner.
Seriously, I couldn’t believe they were allowing me visiting privileges today. With my lawyer, but still.
Ryker’s jaw went tight. “What the hell is that?”
“Nothing.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose, then dropped his hand with a sharp exhale. “Please tell me you didn’t get into a fight. Please. Because if word gets out that you’re—”
“It was a scuffle.” I pulled my hands back under the table, out of sight. “No big deal.”
“A scuffle.” He repeated the word like it tasted rotten. “With who?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“It matters if it ends up in your file.”
Ryker stared at me, clearly waiting for more. I didn’t give him anything.
I hated lying to my best friend. But if I told him the full truth right now, he’d probably have an aneurysm.
“You’re un-fucking-believable—you know that?” Ryker snapped. “I’m tired of prepping you for parole hearings you’re determined to fail.”
Ryker was more than my lawyer. He was one of the four men who’d stood by me since that night the cops dragged me out of our fraternity house in handcuffs: Blake, Jace, Axel, and Ryker.
My brothers in everything but blood. They called themselves the Sinners and Saints Club, and for fourteen years, they’d never wavered.
“I’m following your advice.”
“Not all of it.”
“I got the degree, didn’t I? Business major. Graduated with honors while sharing a cell with a guy who talked to his toenail clippings.” Thank God he wasn’t my cellmate anymore. Ronan was a huge step up. “That should count for something.”
“It does count. But it’s not enough.” Ryker’s jaw tightened.
“You know what parole boards want to hear? They want you to say you regret it. That you’ve thought long and hard about your actions and realized there was a better way.
That you feel remorse and would give anything for your victim to be alive today. ”
The word victim scraped against my skull like a dull blade.
“He wasn’t a victim.”
“To them, he was. And until you can choke out something that sounds like regret, they’ll keep stamping Denied on your file.” Ryker leaned closer. “Just say the words, Knox. You don’t have to mean them.”
“That’s exactly why I won’t say them. I won’t buy my freedom with lies. I’ll earn it. Because I served my time. Because I bettered myself in here. Not because some suit on a parole board made me grovel over a man who didn’t deserve to breathe.”
“And if they never see it that way?”
“Then I’ll wait out the eleven years.” I met his stare. Held it. “What I won’t do is dishonor what happened to her by pretending I wish I’d let him live.”
Ryker pinched the bridge of his nose again, exhaustion bleeding through his courtroom composure. “You’re the most stubborn son of a bitch I’ve ever represented. And I once defended a guy who insisted on testifying in rhymes.”
“Did he win?”
“He’s in a facility upstate. But at least he showed remorse.”
“Hilarious.”
“I’m not asking you to apologize for protecting your daughter.
” Ryker’s voice dropped, and around us, other inmates glanced over.
Even through the cacophony of visiting hour—crying kids, desperate promises, the hollow laughter of people pretending four walls don't separate them—our argument drew attention. “I’m asking you to acknowledge that maybe, just maybe, there could have been another way.”
“There wasn’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I was there. You weren’t.” My fingers stretched again. Once. Twice. “Pretty words from a man who’s never had to choose between his daughter’s innocence and another man’s life.”
“You’re right. I haven’t. But I’ve spent fourteen years watching you rot in here while she grows up without you. Tell me, when’s the last time you saw her?”
I slammed my fist on the table.
The entire room went silent. Conversations died mid-sentence. Guards’ hands drifted to their belts. Every eye tracked to our corner, waiting to see if Knox Blackwood was about to remind everyone why he commanded respect in this cage.
“Don’t.” My voice came out gravel and glass. “Don’t you dare use her against me.”
Ryker held my stare, unflinching. Good. At least he had the balls to own his manipulation.
“I’m not using her, Knox. I’m reminding you that you have something to fight for. That she’s graduating high school without you. Dating people you’ve never met. Making decisions without her father’s guidance because you’re too proud to say three words: I was wrong.”
My pendant burned against my chest. She’d made it in preschool before everything went to hell. “For Daddy’s good luck,” she’d said, her chubby fingers struggling with the knot.
Some fucking luck.
“You think I don’t know what I’m missing?” I pressed my tongue against my molars, fighting the urge to tell him everything. How I kept her crayon drawings under my mattress. How I’d memorized every photo I had of her. How some nights, I still heard her four-year-old voice calling for me.
“Listen.” Ryker leaned back, his voice softening into something almost like sympathy. “Remember when Blake’s sister got tangled up with that judge? When he threatened your parole if any of us helped her?”
I knew where this was going. “Your point?”
“You didn’t hesitate. Threw yourself under the bus to protect her. That’s the side of you that your daughter doesn’t know, Knox. If she did …” He was smart enough to not finish that thought.
If she did, she might visit me.
My gut twisted at what my ex must have told her. That I was a prisoner, obviously. That I’d killed a man and confessed to it. But even my ex didn’t know why. At least I had that.
Because that’s what my daughter would never know: why.
I’d rather her see me as a monster than be plagued with what that man had done to her. She was only four when it happened. Let her hate me, if it meant protecting her psyche from that kind of horror.
My ex and I got pregnant by accident in high school. One stupid, reckless, life-changing time. And, boom, two pink lines.
After that, everything revolved around giving my daughter the best life I possibly could. When I went to college, I chose business because it meant good pay, stability, the kind of life she deserved.
Being away from her while I was in college was hard enough. I drove home almost every single weekend just to be with her, and the only way I got through it was to remind myself that once I graduated, I would never be separated from her again.
I never anticipated that dark night that would forever change our lives.
But at least I had protected her. At least I had saved her.
Even if she’d never know it.
“Time’s up!” A guard bellowed, his voice cutting through the tension like a rusty blade.
Ryker stood slowly, straightening his tie with practiced precision. The movement was pure lawyer, all performance and polish. But his eyes were tired.
“You’re already doing life, Knox.” He tapped his temple.
“Maybe not behind bars forever, but up here? You’re still locked in that moment.
Still living as the man who took a life instead of the man who could build a new one.
” He grabbed his briefcase. “If you don’t find a way forward, this place won’t need to cage you. You’ll do it to yourself.”
I said nothing. There was nothing to say.
“And, Knox?” Ryker pointed at me, the way only he could. If any other person in this room did it, we’d have a problem. One that ended with broken teeth. “Do not get into any more fucking trouble.”