Chapter 4 #2
The man in charge crossed the room and took a seat on the far side of the table, movements unhurried. “Sit.”
Knox obeyed.
Silence stretched between them as the man studied him with an attention that felt invasive. He was overwhelming in a way Knox couldn’t understand. His eyes were the worst of it, focused and unyielding, like they’d already stripped Knox down to whatever mattered.
Knox’s attention snagged on his mouth, unexpectedly soft against the severity of everything else. The observation felt intrusive. He didn’t know why that detail lodged in his mind, and he wished it hadn’t. He looked away too slow, shifting in his chair, more unsettled than before.
“Do you understand why you’re here?” The voice was deep and rough, scraping low enough to vibrate in Knox’s chest.
Knox swallowed. “Because I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Yes.”
Knox bit his lip. “I didn’t tell anyone.”
“I know.”
The calm certainty in the man’s voice made Knox’s stomach twist. He wasn’t reassuring; he was stating a fact—like Knox’s silence was already accounted for.
He leaned forward, tattooed forearms resting on the table, the space between them shrinking in a way that felt deliberate. The air suddenly charged with something Knox couldn’t name. “You saw something you shouldn’t have,” he said. “That makes you a problem.”
Knox’s pulse kicked. “Then why am I still alive?”
He held Knox’s gaze without blinking. “Because you didn’t behave like everyone else.”
Knox frowned, confusion cutting through the fear. “I didn’t do anything.”
“No,” the man agreed. “You didn’t. Do you know what people usually do?”
Knox shook his head.
“They scream, cry, and beg.” His voice remained calm, almost conversational. “They promise me money they don’t have. Information I already know. They tell me about children that don’t exist or girlfriends they suddenly remember loving.”
Heat crawled up Knox’s spine. He hadn’t realized that mattered, that every reaction had been noted and weighed.
The man’s gaze moved over Knox’s face, like he was replaying the memory. “You didn’t do any of those things. There was fear, but it didn’t own you the way it does most people.”
Knox lifted his chin, defiance rising before he could stop it. “Didn’t realize it was a test. Guess that makes me special.”
“You’re angry.”
Knox’s hands clenched harder. “You dragged me here. Should I be grateful?”
The chair scraped against the floor as the man stood, the sound too loud in the small room. He moved around the table without haste, until he stopped directly in front of Knox.
Too close.
There was nowhere to go. Nowhere to shift without making it obvious.
Fingers closed around Knox’s chin, guiding his face upward with a pressure that made resistance pointless. The grip wasn’t cruel, but it was absolute: an unspoken command wrapped in skin and bone.
Knox’s pulse slammed in his throat as their eyes locked, his body going rigid beneath the weight of it.
Every instinct was caught between pulling away and staying perfectly still.
He became acutely aware of everything at once—the heat of the man’s hand against his skin, the closeness of him, the way the air seemed to thin until breathing felt like an effort.
“You should be careful,” the man said quietly, his voice close enough that Knox felt the words as much as heard them. “That tone assumes you have leverage.”
His thumb pressed harder, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind Knox exactly who was in charge.
He swallowed, the movement restricted, his breath uneven in a way he couldn’t control. “I didn’t ask for any of this,” he managed.
“No. You didn’t,” the man agreed easily, as if the fact meant nothing at all. His gaze lingered, before dropping briefly to Knox’s mouth.
The shift was so slight it might have been missed if Knox hadn’t been hyperaware of every movement. The look didn’t last long, but it landed with a force that had his breath hitching.
The man noticed.
Of course he did.
Something in his expression changed, not enough to name it, but Knox felt it all the same. “You owe me,” he stated.
Something cold settled in Knox’s gut. “For not killing me?”
“No. For sparing you,” he corrected. “For trusting you.”
Knox let out a laugh that sounded more brittle than he meant it to. “Trust? You dragged me into an interrogation room. That’s not trust.”
“No,” he said, his tone turning almost thoughtful. “It isn’t.”
His grip remained where it was for a moment longer, before his hand finally fell away. The absence left behind a strange, unwelcome awareness, as if the space where he’d been touched still held the imprint of it.
“I don’t even know your name,” Knox said.
“Dominic Rivera.”
The name settled between them, and something about it felt permanent. Somehow, Knox already knew he’d carry it with him for the rest of his life. “What do you want from me?” he asked, steadier than he felt.
Dominic held his gaze, as if deciding how much to give and how much to keep. “Obedience. You’ll keep your mouth shut. You’ll answer when I call. And you won’t pretend you’re braver than you are.”
“And if I don’t?” Knox asked, the defiance still there.
Dominic’s eyes went cold. “Then I stop being patient.”
Knox’s fingers locked into fists. “Is that a threat?”
“It’s a fact.” Dominic tilted his head, studying him again like he had nothing better to look at. “You keep talking like refusal is still an option. It isn’t. But it’s entertaining, watching you pretend otherwise.”
Knox’s nostrils flared. “Fuck you.”
Dominic didn’t so much as blink. “Careful. That’s the second time today you’ve forgotten who you’re talking to.”
Knox’s breathing came harder, but he said nothing. The anger had nowhere to go, building inside him until it took everything he had not to shake.
“I need to hear you understand me,” Dominic said.
Knox’s jaw worked. Every instinct wanted to push back, but he knew better than to act on it. Living meant falling in line, at least for now. “I understand,” he said, the words scraping on the way out.
“Good,” Dominic said before turning away, dismissing Knox with the same authority he’d used to pull him in. The other man pushed off the wall, moving toward the door.
“You’re going home,” Dominic said over his shoulder. “Enjoy it while it lasts.”
Knox stood, his legs not entirely steady beneath him, his body caught somewhere between adrenaline and exhaustion.
Before he reached the door, Dominic turned, and the look in his eyes stopped him cold. Something dark and intent burned there now—no longer detached. “You caught my attention,” he said. “Do you know how rare that is?”
Knox didn’t answer. He wasn’t sure there was a safe answer to give.
Dominic’s gaze moved over him. “Most people spend their entire lives trying not to be noticed by men like me. You walked straight into it.”
Knox’s throat tightened. “That doesn’t sound like a good thing.”
A faint curve touched Dominic’s mouth. “It isn’t. Be careful what you do with it.”
The implication settled deep. Knox gave a small, automatic nod.
Dominic watched him for another moment, then he stepped aside. “Move,” he said.
This time, Knox didn’t hesitate. He stepped out into the corridor, adrenaline still humming through him. As he walked, one truth settled low in his gut. Dominic hadn’t just frightened him. He had intrigued him. And Knox had the sinking feeling that fear would have been far easier to survive.