Chapter 13 #2
Before Cassian could act, Dominic turned to Knox. He studied the young man’s face, reading the tension in his jaw and the stiffness in his shoulders.
There was horror there. Revulsion, too. But beneath both, he caught something far more interesting.
A dark curiosity. Dominic recognized it instantly.
The pull of standing too close to the fire and wanting to know how long you could bear the heat.
He’d seen it in only a handful over the years, always in a very particular kind of person.
Men who couldn’t leave the edge alone. Men who needed danger like oxygen, who were most alive when everything was at risk.
It was rare and it was dangerous, but now here it was—alive in the boy who already caught his attention more than he should have.
“You don’t have to watch what comes next,” Dominic said. “You can leave the room if you want. The door’s right behind you.”
Knox’s eyes moved toward the exit, then settled back on the violence about to happen. For a brief moment, he looked torn, but then something in him settled. He shook his head and stayed exactly where he was.
Dominic felt a cold satisfaction settle through him. Keeping him alive had been the right call. Trusting his instincts had paid off, even better than he could have predicted. Knox wasn’t just going to survive in this world; he was going to thrive in it.
He held Knox’s gaze a second longer, then turned to Cassian. “Do it.”
It was all over in seconds as Cassian gave a nod to his men—three guns raised, three muffled shots, three bodies jerking before going still. The sound echoed off the bare concrete walls, loud despite the suppressors.
The two who’d been spared shrank back in their chairs, faces drained of color, shock written so plainly across them it was almost pathetic.
Dominic stepped forward. “You two got lucky today. But listen carefully. If you ever cross me again—whether knowingly or not—I won’t spare you a second time.” He let the words sink in, then added, “When you see Mercer, you tell him what happened here. Tell him I don’t forgive. And I don’t forget.”
Neither man seemed capable of answering, and Dominic didn’t wait for a reply. He turned toward the door, already done with them. “Follow me,” he said to Knox.
They stepped out into the corridor together, leaving blood and chaos behind. His mind was already turning toward the boy at his side, who had just crossed another line and didn’t even flinch.
* * *
The elevator doors slid shut with a soft hiss. He pressed his keycard to the panel and watched the numbers climb all the way to the top. Dominic found himself unusually aware of the choice he was making.
No one came up here. Not women. Not his men. Not even his family. Cassian was the only exception. The loft was his one line of privacy, the place no one touched. Which made the decision to bring Knox here feel strangely reckless.
Why was he doing this?
He glanced at Knox out of the corner of his eye.
He told himself it was just practical. Knox had witnessed another execution and needed a place to calm down, time to deal with everything that had happened.
Maybe he wanted to show him that this world wasn’t only blood and violence.
Or maybe he wanted to keep him close. That thought unsettled him most.
The elevator chimed and the doors slid open.
Dominic stepped out into the only place in the city where he ever let his guard down.
The space was wide and open. The original brick was left exposed, heavy timber beams overhead, warm wooden floors underfoot.
One wall was nothing but glass, offering the kind of view that reminded him of everything he’d built and what it had cost to keep it.
To someone who didn’t know him, the space might have looked austere.
It wasn’t. The leather couch was soft and comfy, heavy throws tossed casually across the back.
The kitchen was open and lived in, always stocked with the things he liked: good coffee, real bread, cheese, eggs, and fresh fruit.
There were no photographs, but traces of him existed everywhere.
A stack of books by the window seat. Vinyl records beside the player.
A game controller abandoned on the coffee table.
Signs of a life no one was meant to see.
Knox took it all in without comment, eyes moving over the space. Dominic found himself oddly tense under the scrutiny.
He didn’t offer a tour. “This is my place,” he said. The words came more stiffly than he intended. “Not many people come up here.”
He heard the admission the moment it left his mouth and disliked it immediately. Before Knox could respond, Dominic gestured toward the couch. “Sit. Are you hungry?”
He didn’t wait for an answer. Movement was easier than standing there analyzing his own choices.
He crossed to the kitchen, pulled bread from the counter, cheese and prosciutto from the fridge, and assembled sandwiches with practiced efficiency.
He plated them without ceremony and carried them to the living area.
By the time he walked over, Knox had taken a seat at the far end of the couch. Dominic handed him a plate and, for a while, they ate in silence.
Dominic broke it first. “For the next few months, you’ll rotate through different parts of my operation. Shadow my men. Learn how things work.”
Knox lowered his sandwich. “I still don’t even know what your work is.”
Dominic considered how much to say. “Distribution, warehouses, clubs. Legitimate businesses alongside less legitimate ones.”
Knox’s expression didn’t change.
Dominic continued. “We move product. Money changes hands. Some of it legal, some of it not. Everything runs because we make sure it does.”
Knox let out a short, humorless laugh. “And you think I’m just supposed to… what? Fit into that?”
Dominic leaned back. “I think you’re sharp. You keep your mouth shut. You’re not afraid to see things for what they are.”
Knox shook his head, frustration creeping in. “What if this isn’t what I want? What if I don’t want any part of it?”
Dominic held his gaze. “I think you do. Even if you’re still fighting it. I saw the way you looked earlier. You wanted to see how it ended.”
Knox glared. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“No,” Dominic agreed. “But I know what I saw. You could’ve left, but you stayed. Part of you wants to know what happens when you stop listening to that voice telling you not to step closer.”
Knox dropped his gaze, fighting whatever answer wanted to rise up in him.
Dominic let the silence stretch between them. “You can lie to yourself,” he said eventually, “but don’t insult me by trying to lie to me.”
Frustration flashed across Knox’s face as he looked back up. “Why me? I’m not part of your world. I don’t have anything you need.”
“That’s not true. You pick up on things. You see what others miss. You keep your head when it matters. Most people, when shit gets real, they freeze or they fold. You don’t.”
Knox let out a shaky breath. “So what? That’s enough?”
“It’s a start,” Dominic said. “There’s value in people who don’t flinch.”
Knox gave a short nod as something unreadable settled in his expression, not acceptance, but maybe the beginning of understanding.
Dominic watched Knox for another beat before asking, “Tell me about your mother.”
Knox went rigid. “Why?”
Dominic forced a shrug, aiming for casual. “If you work for me, I need to know who depends on you. That matters.”
The excuse sounded reasonable. Businesslike. He almost believed it himself.
“She’s not your problem,” Knox bristled.
Dominic’s voice was unmovable. “She is. I can’t have surprises. How bad is it, Knox?”
Knox’s hand tightened around the plate, his eyes fixed on a spot somewhere over Dominic’s shoulder. He wasn’t used to talking about home, that much was clear.
For reasons Dominic didn’t care to examine, he pushed again. “Tell me.”
A beat passed.
Then another.
Finally, Knox spoke. “She’s not well. Some days she doesn’t get out of bed. Other days…” He swallowed. “Other days she’s there, but not really. She can’t keep a job. My dad died recently, so it's just me now. I pay the bills, buy groceries, and get her medicine. All of it.”
Dominic was silent for a moment. “No other family?”
Knox bit his lip before shaking his head. “I’ve got a half-brother, but we’re not close.” He shot Dominic a hard look. “What is this? You running a background check, or are you just nosy?”
A smirk almost tugged at Dominic’s mouth, but he buried it behind another bite of his sandwich. He wasn’t sure why he liked his attitude. “Just due diligence. If there’s drama at home, I want to know it before it lands on my doorstep.”
Bullshit.
He’d never once asked any of his men about their families. Knox was different. That realization sat badly with him.
Their eyes met, something charged crackling in the space between them. Dominic broke the connection first. “You ever ask for help?”
Knox barked a laugh, the sound flat and bitter. “Yeah. Sure. You know a lot of people lining up to help a broke kid from a shit neighborhood?” He shook his head. “There’s no help. Hell, even my own parents were never any help.”
Dominic didn’t let up. “You resent her for it?”
Knox’s jaw worked. “She’s sick.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Knox’s fingers curled into a fist. For a second, Dominic thought he wouldn’t answer.
Then Knox spoke, quieter this time. “I know she can’t help being sick.
But sometimes…” He stared at the wall instead of at Dominic.
“Sometimes I think she just stopped trying. I just wish she’d fought harder. For me, if nothing else.”
The confession hung there, raw and fragile. Knox had gone completely still, not looking at Dominic, while Dominic found himself watching him a little too closely. He cleared his throat. “That’s a shit hand to be dealt.”
Knox shot him a look, half-grateful, half-defiant. “Doesn’t matter,” he muttered. “You play the cards you get.”