Chapter 11
Knox
By the end of the week, Knox wasn’t sure whether his body had adapted or simply given up complaining.
He sat on the edge of a bench, elbows braced on his knees, sweat sliding down the side of his face.
His breathing had slowed from ragged to merely heavy, but his pulse still thudded beneath his skin.
Cassian dropped down beside him with a grunt, tossing a towel over his shoulder. “You didn’t get dropped today,” he said, sounding faintly surprised by the fact.
Knox unscrewed his water bottle and took a long pull before answering. “Came close.”
“Yeah,” Cassian said, stretching his long legs out in front of him. “But you didn’t.”
Knox wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, noticing the sting from his scraped knuckles. “So that’s it?”
“For the week.” Cassian sounded entirely too relaxed for someone who’d spent the last few hours trading blows with Knox. “You’re still shit,” he added. “Just… less catastrophically so.”
A tired laugh escaped Knox, too drained to be offended. “I’ll take it.”
Cassian tapped his bottle against his knee. “We’ll keep it going.”
Knox glanced up. “What?”
“You’re improving. Would be a waste to stop now.” Cassian shrugged. “We’ll meet on Saturday mornings.”
“Every week?” Knox asked.
Cassian turned his head, expression dry. “Unless you die.”
Knox snorted, shaking his head. “Alright.”
“And in between, you keep working out on your own.” Cassian nodded toward the equipment around them. “I’ll get you set up with access. Half of getting good at this is repetition.”
“Yeah, okay. I can do that.”
Cassian stood, stretching his arms overhead. “Perfect,” he said, already moving on. “Want to grab something to eat?”
Knox pushed himself upright, every part of him protesting. “God, yes. I’m starving.”
Cassian jerked his head toward the lockers. “Come on. Lunch’s on me.”
“Where?”
Cassian glanced back, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “The club. Where else?”
* * *
By the time they stepped into The Velvet Room, Knox felt almost human again. Or at least clean.
The club was alive. Not packed yet, but full enough to hum with energy. There was low music, conversation threading through the air, and dancers moving like they didn’t have a single doubt in their bodies.
Cassian slid into a booth near the back, stretching out lazily and grabbing a menu he didn’t bother reading.
Knox dropped in across from him, still feeling the aftermath of training in his limbs.
A waitress appeared almost immediately. Cassian looked up with an easy smile already in place. “Burgers, fries and a beer.” He glanced at Knox. “You?”
“Same’s fine.”
She nodded, scribbling it down.
Cassian shot her a wink. “You’re a hero.”
She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling when she walked away.
Knox’s attention had drifted. Dominic stood at the bar, one elbow braced against the counter, posture deceptively relaxed.
Missy stood close beside him. Too close to be casual.
She leaned into him as she spoke, her hand resting on his arm.
There was no hesitation in her touch, just ease and familiarity.
Something in Knox stirred before he could make sense of it.
Missy laughed softly, tipping her head back, then leaned in again, her mouth brushing close to Dominic’s ear as she said something.
Cassian followed his line of sight. An amused sound left him. “Yeah. They fuck sometimes.”
The words landed between them with startling bluntness, like it was the most ordinary thing in the world.
Knox ground his teeth. “Didn’t ask.”
“Didn’t say you did,” Cassian said. “Just saving you the guesswork.”
Knox leaned back into the booth, forcing himself to look away. It lasted for all of three seconds. Dominic said something that changed Missy’s expression instantly, her smile brightening into something more eager.
Cassian glanced at Knox over the rim of his drink. “You look like you’re trying really hard not to care.”
Knox gave a dismissive exhale. “I don’t.”
“Mm.” Cassian let it drop, turning his attention elsewhere.
Knox wished his own mind would do the same.
At the bar, Dominic turned, his gaze cutting across the room and landing straight on him.
Everything else disappeared. The music dulled into nothing, movement blurred at the edges.
The room itself seemed to fall away until all Knox could see was that unflinching gaze fixed squarely on him.
There was something in his eyes Knox couldn’t name, something dark and intent. It hit him all at once, sudden enough to steal the air from his lungs.
He couldn’t break the contact. Doing so would feel like surrendering something he didn’t even understand.
And then—Dominic looked away.
Just like that.
He turned back to Missy as if the moment had meant nothing at all. As if Knox had imagined every second of it. A strange, hollow irritation opened in his chest.
Dominic leaned down and said something against Missy’s ear. Whatever it was, it worked. He straightened, his hand settling at the small of her back, and she moved with him without a second thought. They crossed the floor together and disappeared down the hallway.
Side by side.
The club rushed back in around him all at once—music, voices, laughter.
Everything returned to normal. Except he didn’t feel normal.
He leaned back slowly, dragging a hand over his face.
Why the hell did he care? It made no sense.
Dominic could do whatever he wanted. With whoever he wanted. So why did it feel wrong?
He stared down at the table. The truth came to him in an ugly, unwelcome flash.
He’d gotten used to Dominic’s attention.
Used to walking into a room and feeling that immediate shift.
He had gotten used to being watched like he mattered more than whatever else was happening around them.
He hadn’t even realized how he’d come to expect it until Dominic’s attention was suddenly elsewhere.
Across the table, Cassian had gone quiet. His gaze flicked once toward the hallway, then back to Knox. He didn’t miss much and he definitely didn’t miss this. “So,” he said. “What’s got you twisted?”
Knox looked away. “Nothing.”
Cassian snorted. “Yeah, no. Try again.”
“I’m fine.”
Cassian leaned back, studying him like a puzzle he’d half-solved. “Alright,” he said slowly. “So is this about her… or him?”
Knox’s head snapped up before he could stop it.
Cassian’s smile was immediate. “Yeah,” he said, pointing at him. “That reaction? Not helping your case.”
Knox looked away with a scoff that sounded weak even to him. “You’re reading into shit.”
“Am I? Because from where I’m sitting, you look like someone just stole your favorite toy.”
Heat flashed across his face. “I don’t—”
“Relax,” Cassian cut him off. “I genuinely don’t care which one it is. I’m just trying to figure out what kind of terrible decision you’re gearing up to make.”
Knox said nothing.
Cassian watched him for another moment, then mercifully let it drop. “Anyway,” he said. “Food should be here soon.”
By the time Dominic reappeared, their plates were empty. Cassian had spent most of the meal talking—something about a fight he’d seen last month—but Knox had barely absorbed a word. He’d eaten on autopilot, more out of habit than hunger.
Then Dominic stepped out from the hallway. Alone. The sleeves of his suit jacket were slightly rumpled now, the pristine shirt beneath just imperfect enough to suggest exactly what Knox didn’t want to picture.
Dominic’s gaze moved across the room in a single sweep before landing on their table.
On Knox.
This time, he didn’t look away. He walked toward them with a calm certainty.
Cassian glanced up. “Took your time.”
Dominic slid into the booth beside Knox. Close. Far too close.
“I was busy,” Dominic said.
Cassian laughed into his drink. “Yeah. We noticed.”
Knox didn’t say anything. He was suddenly, painfully aware of everything. The heat of Dominic beside him. The faint trace of cologne mixed with something warmer. The way the booth felt smaller now, the air somehow thicker.
Cassian took another drink. “Kid survived the week, by the way.”
Knox shrugged, aiming for indifference and probably missing. “Got hit. A lot.” He dragged a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face mostly because he needed something to do with himself.
Dominic’s gaze followed the movement and caught on Knox’s hand. “Let me see,” he said.
Knox barely had time to process the words before Dominic reached for him.
His fingers closed around Knox’s wrist, turning his hand slightly.
Knox’s breath caught. Not because of the grip, but because of how natural it felt.
Dominic touching him like this should have been strange, but somehow it wasn’t.
“You got some punches in,” Dominic said, studying his scraped knuckles.
“A few.” Knox’s voice came out rougher than he intended.
Dominic’s thumb brushed over his skin. Pain flared, the bruising deep enough that even the light pressure lit it up. His fingers twitched, his body reacting before he could stop it. He should have pulled away, but he didn’t.
Didn’t want to.
Dominic’s thumb moved again, slower this time, tracing across each knuckle in turn. Not hard enough to actually hurt him, but not gentle enough to be innocent. Just enough pressure to make Knox feel every inch of it.
And somehow worse than the pain was the fact that Dominic was watching him. Not his hand. Him. Tracking every reaction, every involuntary shift in his breathing, every flicker of tension he couldn’t quite suppress.
Knox felt pinned in place by it.
Dominic’s grip tightened just enough to keep Knox’s hand where he wanted it before his thumb pressed down again, harder this time. Pain shot up Knox’s arm, dragging a loud breath from him before he could swallow it.
Dominic went still. Something in his expression changed. There was a flicker of recognition. Satisfaction, almost. Like he’d just confirmed something he’d suspected and was now turning it over in his mind.
And still, Knox didn’t pull away.
God knew he should have.
He sat there with Dominic’s fingers wrapped around his hand. Their eyes locked. There was nothing remotely safe about the moment. Nothing comfortable about the way his pulse was pounding against his ribs. But it didn’t feel like fear.
Dominic’s grip adjusted, fingers sliding from his hand to his wrist, lighter now, but somehow even harder to ignore. Knox had to bite back a ridiculous sound.
Then Cassian cleared his throat.
Loudly.
“Alright,” he drawled. “I’m starting to feel like a third wheel at my own table.”
Dominic let go. The abrupt absence of contact hit Knox almost as hard as the pressure had.
Fuck.
Heat crawled violently up the back of his neck. They hadn’t been alone. How the hell had he forgotten Cassian was sitting right there? Watching Knox behave like some complete idiot who apparently had no concept of self-preservation.
He dragged in a breath, forcing it even, forcing his expression into something neutral. What the fuck was wrong with him?
Dominic had leaned back, posture composed, but his attention hadn’t shifted. He was still watching Knox. There were questions in his eyes, like he was trying to work through a problem.
Then it vanished. Shut down so quickly Knox wondered if he’d imagined it. Whatever replaced it was colder, almost irritated, as if he disliked whatever he’d almost let show.
Cassian let out a low whistle. “Well, that’s interesting,” he said, clearly enjoying himself. “You two wanna fill me in, or should I just keep inventing increasingly entertaining explanations?”
That, finally, made Dominic look away.
“Nothing to explain.”