Chapter 5
Dominic
Cassian walked straight into Dominic’s office without knocking. “Your guy just called. The kid’s back home.”
Dominic stayed silent. His thumb traced absently along the edge of his desk, following the grain of the dark wood.
Cassian cleared his throat. “Do you want a tail on him, or are we trusting he’s too scared to open his mouth?”
Dominic’s gaze lifted. “He’s not stupid. He knows what will happen if he talks.”
Cassian rolled a shoulder, then gave a short nod, accepting it for what it was. “Alright. Then about that rat you killed last night…”
Dominic’s attention snapped back. “Remember the shipment we lost last month? And the warehouse that got hit right after?”
Cassian nodded slowly. “Not a major loss financially. But enough to be insulting.”
“Exactly.” Dominic’s jaw tightened. “That worthless bastard sold route schedules and access codes to Victor Mercer for what was probably pocket change.”
Cassian leaned against the desk, arms crossed. “Shame we didn’t know it was Mercer at the time.”
“Yes,” Dominic agreed, gaze darkening. “That’s the actual problem. It took too long to identify the leak.”
“Mercer’s already profited from it,” Cassian said, disgust edging his tone. “The rat’s dead, but Mercer still walked away with your goods.”
Dominic leaned back in his chair. “He might have taken what belongs to me. But that doesn’t mean he gets to keep it.”
“So what’s the plan?”
Dominic turned his attention to the city beyond the glass. Stockton stretched out around him, the grid of streets and the veins of traffic. Ugly in places. Beautiful in others. Alive in the way most cities are: restless, hungry, and constantly changing.
Everything that moved through it—legal or otherwise—touched his network somewhere.
Warehouses at the docks, trucking and logistics companies moving shipments, bars and nightclubs to clean the cash, real estate and storage on every corner.
Most of it looked legitimate on paper, but his network connected it all.
If it was smuggled, fenced, or laundered, it was under his control.
Stockton had been his long before anyone realized. And the surrounding cities had followed just as easily. He’d outgrown Stockton years ago, but still he remained. It would always be his home.
“First,” he said, “we recover what was taken. Quietly, if possible. Violently, if we have to.”
That earned a faint smile from Cassian.
“Mercer’s people who knowingly moved against me die. If we can find Mercer, he dies too, but we both know he prefers to let others get their hands dirty while he hides.”
Cassian nodded. “So we’re starting a war?”
Dominic’s mouth curved. “No. We’re correcting something that should never have happened. He’s not someone I lose sleep over. He’s ambitious, but dumb as shit.”
Cassian cocked his head. “You know him that well?”
Dominic’s mouth flattened. “We were in the same year at high school. He’s always been the same. Getting into trouble he couldn’t finish. Trying to make himself seem bigger than he was.”
Cassian snorted. “I was a few years behind you guys, barely remember the guy. So he’s basically a moron?”
“An opportunistic one.”
Mercer would be dealt with, his assets reclaimed, and the men involved punished. That part was easy, business as usual. Nothing in this city ever unsettled him for long. What was proving less easy, and what refused to leave him even now, was something else entirely.
Knox.
The name surfaced without permission, his thoughts pulling him back to the interrogation room. To the way Knox had sat across from him—visibly afraid, and still somehow angry enough to challenge him.
He hadn’t needed to cross the room and move closer. He could have handled the conversation from across the table, keeping his distance like usual. Instead, he’d stepped directly into Knox’s space, close enough to feel the heat coming off him. Close enough to hear the uneven rhythm of his breathing.
His fingers had closed around Knox’s chin almost without thought, lifting his face like he was something to be examined.
Knox had gone rigid beneath the touch, but he hadn’t looked away.
He had met his gaze like he didn’t understand who was standing in front of him.
Or worse, like he did and chose not to care.
Dominic remembered the brief, unwelcome shift in his attention—the split second his gaze had dropped to Knox’s mouth before he corrected himself.
Something had moved under his skin in that moment.
Something hot and unfamiliar. A pulse that had nothing to do with power and everything to do with proximity.
The recollection irritated him instantly.
Cassian’s voice broke through the thought. “You gonna tell me what’s got you this distracted?”
Dominic looked at him. “No.”
Cassian laughed. “The kid, then.”
“Knox is just a witness I chose to spare. Nothing more,” he said flatly. But even as he said it, he could still remember the warmth of Knox’s skin beneath his hand.
Cassian watched him for a long moment, then nodded. “If you say so.”
“I do.” The dismissal in his tone was clear.
Cassian pushed off the desk. “So what do you need?”
“Take a few men and start digging. I want names, connections, anyone working with Mercer, and every weak point we can exploit.”
Cassian nodded. “You’ll have it.”
Then he was gone, the office door closing behind him. Silence settled in his absence. Dominic exhaled slowly, his fingers tapping against the desk.
All he needed was a simple test to see what kind of man Knox Wolfe really was. Nothing that would draw blood or attention, but enough to determine whether Knox was capable of following orders. Obedience could be measured after all.
He leaned back and let his mind turn over the possibilities. The right task would show whether Knox could be of any use to him.
And if he failed… He would not be spared a second time.
* * *
He could have sent anyone. It would have been easier, safer, and unquestionably smarter. A call to one of his men would have accomplished the same thing without wasting his time.
And yet, as dusk settled over Stockton the following evening, Dominic found himself behind the wheel of his car, idling a block away from Knox’s apartment building.
He sat there longer than necessary, watching the crooked stoop in silence, giving himself ample opportunity to reconsider what the hell he was doing.
He got out anyway.
The hallway reeked of old smoke, damp plaster, and something sour that clung to the back of his throat. The lighting threw shadows across stained walls and worn carpet. He knocked hard enough that the sound echoed down the corridor.
A few seconds later, Knox opened the door, eyes wide. His hair was damp and a faint flush lingered at his throat, like he’d just stepped out of the shower. His mouth parted, surprise catching him off guard before he could mask it. “Wasn’t expecting you—”
The words died beneath Dominic’s stare.
Good.
A sharp voice snapped from the living room. “Who’s at the door? You know not to let anyone in. Don’t let them in.”
Knox winced. “It’s fine, mom. I’m heading out.” He stepped back to grab his jacket, leaving the door ajar.
Dominic glanced past him, taking in the apartment in a single sweep.
A woman sat sunken into a battered sofa, one hand clutching a blanket like it was the only thing anchoring her.
The television blared at a volume entirely disproportionate to the size of the room.
Her eyes caught on him, but whatever awareness might have formed there vanished almost immediately.
The words she muttered under her breath didn’t resolve into anything coherent.
Then, suddenly, her voice rose. “Don’t go out! Don’t leave me here alone.” The words cracked into the room with startling force. “If you go, I’m locking the door. I’m not opening it again tonight, you hear me?”
Knox didn’t look at her. “Don’t make a scene, mom. I’ll be back.” The response was so practiced it landed with more exhaustion than emotion.
She had already turned back to the TV before he finished speaking, her attention gone as quickly as it had surfaced.
Dominic watched it all without reacting, but unease bloomed in his chest. He had no tolerance for those who gutted the people they were supposed to protect. They took until there was nothing left and called it love. The urge to speak was difficult to suppress, but he managed to force it down.
Not his concern.
Knox pulled the door shut behind him, shoulders held too rigidly to be natural, his mouth pressed thin like he was waiting for a reaction.
Dominic turned without a word.
They headed down the stairs in silence, the echo of their footsteps filling the space between them. It wasn’t until they reached the street that Dominic spoke. “Does she always talk to you like that?”
Knox shrugged, eyes fixed on the pavement. “She’s sick. It’s not her fault.”
Dominic didn’t respond. The excuse irritated him more than it should have.
They reached the car without another word. Knox climbed into the passenger seat and shut the door harder than necessary, folding his arms tightly across his chest. His posture radiated tension, every line of him braced for conflict.
Dominic started the engine and pulled out, the city sliding by in streaks of neon and evening traffic. Knox lasted less than a minute. “You know,” he said suddenly, “it must be easy for you.”
Dominic kept his attention on the road. “Is that so?”
“Yeah.” Knox let out a humorless laugh. “You just decide you want something, snap your fingers, and suddenly somebody else’s life gets turned upside down.”
Dominic’s hands remained steady on the wheel. “I do what’s necessary.”
“Yeah, I bet you do,” Knox muttered, bitterness cutting through. “And everyone else just has to live with it, right?”
“Most people don’t get a choice at all,” Dominic said. “You have one now. That makes you luckier than most.”
Knox turned toward him. “Some choice. Do what you say or disappear?”
Dominic said nothing. The silence answered clearly enough.