Chapter 7 #2
“Or,” Dominic continued, “you stay with us for a while. Maybe you need a distraction. And you won’t have to watch what you say. Your call.”
Cassian gave a crooked grin. “We’re not the worst company,” he said. “Depending on your tolerance for terrible decisions.”
Under different circumstances, Knox might have laughed.
Instead, he looked from the blood on the floor to the two men in front of him.
The thought of going home, of sitting alone in that cramped apartment with nothing but the replay of this looping endlessly in his head, suddenly felt unbearable.
He drew in a slow breath. “I could use a distraction.”
Dominic nodded, like he’d expected that answer. “Alright.” He glanced at Cassian. “You pick where we go.”
Not long after, Knox walked out of the warehouse beside them, leaving behind the blood, the body, and the last remnants of the life he could never return to.
* * *
The sign above the door read The Velvet Room, its gold lettering catching in the afternoon light. They stepped through the heavy door into yet another world that belonged to Dominic Rivera.
Even in the middle of the day, the strip club buzzed with life. Music drifted through the air in an insistent rhythm as colored lights slid across bare skin, catching on glitter and expensive lingerie.
The dancers owned the stage, moving with confidence and a seductive energy, all slow hips and knowing smiles.
Every movement felt deliberate, designed to keep every eye exactly where they wanted it.
The staff moved just as smoothly, weaving between tables with ease, not an empty glass or spilled drink in sight.
Cassian led them toward a booth near the stage, tossing a wink at a passing waitress.
She grinned and hurried to set up their table.
Around them, heads turned—not openly, never for long—but Knox noticed the quick glances aimed at Dominic before snapping away again, as though staring too long at him might invite consequences.
They’d barely settled in before the waitress returned with a bottle of whiskey, three tumblers, and a bucket of ice. Cassian poured generously. “I love this place,” he said, lifting his drink. “Here’s to terrible coping mechanisms.”
Dominic snorted and shook his head. “You love it because you never pay your own tab.”
Cassian smiled without shame. “Who’s got time to count pennies when there’s art happening on stage?”
Knox took a cautious sip. It went down easier than it had any right to, smoky and rich in a way that made the cheap stuff he usually drank taste like rubbing alcohol by comparison.
He shifted in the booth, trying to force himself into something resembling relaxation, but his body refused to cooperate.
When he looked up, he caught Dominic watching him. An unreadable expression sat in those hazel eyes. “How are you holding up?” he asked.
Knox stared into his drink. “I’ve had better days.”
Cassian reached over and patted his arm. “Trust me, it can get worse. I’ve had days where the cops, an ex-girlfriend, and a rabid Chihuahua were all after me at once. You’ll survive. Perspective, kid.”
A huff escaped Knox. “Yeah? I think I’d take the dog next time.”
“You did good,” Dominic said.
Knox’s attention snapped back to him.
“Most people would’ve run out the door,” Dominic went on. “Or thrown up on their shoes. You didn’t do either.”
Knox met his eyes. He wasn’t sure why Dominic’s approval made him feel better, but somehow it eased the knot in his chest. “Didn’t feel like I had much choice.”
A curve touched Dominic’s mouth. “No. You didn’t.”
That should have been the end of it. Instead, Dominic kept watching him. The weight of it sat strangely against Knox’s skin. He looked away first, reaching for his drink mostly to have something to do with his hands.
Cassian leaned in. “Look,” he said. “Nobody walks out of something like that untouched. But you get used to it.”
Knox froze, his grip tightening around the glass. Those words—used to it—landed wrong.
Cassian just raised his glass again. “To surviving the first day. And to the second being easier.”
They all drank. For a while, the club felt safer than it should. Like some strange buffer between him and reality. A place where the gunshot couldn’t quite reach him.
Conversations drifted to safer ground. Cassian told increasingly ridiculous stories that were probably half lies and somehow still entertaining. Stories about wild nights, close calls, girls who’d broken his heart and guys who’d tried to break his nose.
Dominic mostly listened, a smile ghosting at the edges of his mouth, his posture relaxed for the first time since Knox met him. That was somehow stranger than anything else. Because when Dominic wasn’t actively terrifying someone, there was something almost deceptively easy about him.
Knox found himself laughing once or twice despite himself. The fear from earlier faded beneath the club’s noise and the surreal normalcy of sitting in a strip club after watching someone die.
At one point, Cassian leaned in, dropping his voice. “Listen, kid. Stick with us long enough and you’ll learn to live with the brutalities of our world. Hell, you might even start to like it.”
The room suddenly felt too warm. This wasn’t just a fucked up day anymore, it was a new reality he hadn’t chosen, but couldn’t leave. The music seemed to push too close. Air caught halfway into his lungs. His fingers tightened around the glass until his knuckles turned white.
Cassian had already turned back toward the stage, distracted by one of the dancers.
But Dominic noticed—of course he did. His scrutiny was relentless, like a hand around Knox’s throat.
He leaned closer, eyes burning with something dark.
“The world isn’t made for comfort. It’s built for people who refuse to break. ”
Knox shook his head as Dominic’s gaze pinned him in place.
“Maybe you haven’t figured it out yet,” he continued. “You’re one of them. I see it.”
Knox managed a breath, but it came out uneven.
“You can panic if you need to,” Dominic said. “Just do it here. Where no one can use it against you.”
The words should have sounded cruel, but somehow they felt like permission. Dominic looked straight at the ugly thing unraveling inside him and, instead of mocking him, had made space for it. For the first time, he didn’t try to hide how overwhelmed he felt. “Yeah. I get it.”
Dominic leaned back and poured himself another drink. “Good. Because you’re not getting out.”
The strange flicker of safety vanished so fast it almost made him feel stupid for feeling it at all.
His emotions were a mess, crashing into each other too fast to make sense of.
Hatred coiled tight in his chest. He hated Dominic for trapping him in this, for the brutal reminder of who held the leash.
And yet some twisted part of him still craved his approval, still felt that sick relief at being seen.
He wanted to shove Dominic away, to scream that he didn’t belong here.
More than that, he was terrified to see how far Dominic would push him, and how much of himself would survive it.
Before the contradictory feelings could drag him under, Cassian slid a couple of shots across the table. Knox hadn’t even noticed him ordering them or the waitress bringing them over. “Come on, Wolfe,” Cassian said. “You look like you need something stronger.”
The interruption shattered the moment just enough for Knox to breathe again. Grateful for something to do, he grabbed the glass and knocked it back in one swallow. He barely tasted it, but the heat cut through the cold running in his veins.
Cassian clocked the intensity at their booth. He nudged Dominic and said, “You two need to relax before you both grind your teeth into dust.” He lifted a hand and waved over the beautiful brunette who’d been running the floor. “Missy!”
“Yes, Cass?” she asked, her smile all charm.
“We need a little extra in the champagne room,” he said. “You know the kind. Three girls, but only if they’re willing. Tell them to bring their best game.”
She raised a perfectly arched brow, her eyes flicking to Dominic, waiting for the real permission. Dominic hesitated, glancing at Knox with a question in his eyes. “Is that what you want?” he asked.
The day had already torn through every illusion he’d been clinging to.
He’d already crossed too many lines to pretend he was still standing safely on the other side of them.
Maybe that was why saying yes felt easier than saying no.
Maybe it was a need to outrun the images still clawing at his mind.
Or maybe some darker part of him simply wanted to push further, to lean into the wildness.
This was the good kind of adrenaline—the kind he craved.
He held Dominic’s gaze, refusing to look away. “Yeah. I’m good with it.”
Missy’s smile widened, approval glinting in her eyes. “Consider it done.”
She disappeared down a hallway, and Knox watched her go, a strange knot of anticipation tightening in his chest.
Cassian clapped his hands together. “That’s the spirit. See? We’re salvaging this day already.”
The atmosphere around the table shifted, softening into something more indulgent. By the time Missy returned, Knox had finished another drink and felt the horrors of the day grow hazy. She stopped beside the table, one manicured hand resting against her hip. “Your room’s ready.”
Cassian stood immediately, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he announced grandly, gesturing toward the hallway, “let the healing begin.”