Chapter 19
Knox
Two weeks passed without Dominic. Not a single appearance at the warehouse, not even a quick check-in to see how things were going. Knox told himself that was normal. Dominic didn’t hover. Men like him didn’t need to stand in the middle of a room to control it.
Still, he had started noticing the absence the way you notice a missing sound—not loud, just wrong.
The warehouse ran with mechanical precision. Forklifts moved through the aisles, paperwork changed hands, and trucks were loaded and cleared without anyone raising their voice. Mendez kept the entire operation running without seeming to rush once.
The first two days, Knox watched more than he spoke.
By the third, he started asking questions Mendez didn’t brush off.
By the fifth, it was clear: the pills were just one artery.
There were crates that didn’t rattle like tablets, shipments that required colder storage than ecstasy ever would, containers that moved under heavier guard and changed vehicles twice before reaching their final destination.
He watched how money was counted and how numbers were verified without ever being written down. He began to see the lattice beneath it all—the part that kept everything insulated. Every handoff had layers of separation and deniability built in.
He was being shown the parts that would destroy him if he mishandled them.
By the end of the first week, he’d stopped being surprised by what emerged whenever a crate was opened.
He watched, he learned, and he adjusted.
And every night, once he was back in his apartment, he’d lie in the dark and replay the map in his head: routes, names, patterns, the invisible architecture of it all.
That evening, Knox sat at the edge of his bed, freshly showered, elbows braced on his thighs.
The apartment was quieter than usual, his mother having gone to sleep early.
He should have been exhausted. The past two weeks had been long, and he’d learned more in those fourteen days than he had in the past year of his life.
His mind wouldn’t settle. He checked his phone again. Nothing.
Dominic had truly gone quiet.
But that was the point, wasn’t it? Dominic had built his entire empire so he never needed to touch the day-to-day directly. People handled things for him.
So why did the silence feel personal?
He dropped back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. Two weeks ago, Dominic had looked at him like someone worthy of his time. And then he’d stepped away. Knox didn’t know what unsettled him more: the intensity of that last interaction, or the absence that followed it like a door closing.
He pushed off the bed and paced once across the narrow bedroom, then back again. The apartment felt too still. He hated that feeling. The sense of being suspended.
He grabbed his phone again, thumb hovering over Dominic’s name.
No.
He shoved it into his sweatpants pocket. If Dominic wanted silence, fine. That was fine.
The energy in his chest had nowhere to go. It pressed at him, restless and infuriating. Sitting in this apartment turning it over wasn’t helping. He needed noise. Movement. Anything that didn’t feel like waiting.
He reached for his phone. Miguel would be with Logan. They usually were this time of night, drifting between bars or parked outside one arguing about music.
Miguel picked up on the second ring. “What’s up?”
“You and Logan out?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Can you come get me?”
A pause. “Where are we going?”
Knox stared at the blank wall across from him. “The Velvet Room.”
There was a beat of silence on the other end. “That strip club? Why?”
Knox walked toward his closet, pulling the door open. “Because I feel like going out.”
Another pause, longer this time. Miguel wasn’t stupid. “You good?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
A quiet exhale. “Alright. We’ll be there in ten minutes.”
When the line went dead, Knox stayed rooted to the spot, phone still in his hand. He hadn’t meant to decide that quickly. The idea had formed and then solidified within seconds. He could’ve picked anywhere… a bar, a pool hall, somewhere neutral.
He almost laughed.
He reached into the closet and pulled out the first shirt his hand landed on, then stopped. His eyes drifted to the row of darker fabrics. He put the first shirt aside and chose another—cleaner lines, better cut. He knew he looked good in it.
Two weeks of silence, and here he was, choosing the shirt he looked best in just in case he ran into him.
Then, because he was already this far in, he didn’t half-commit.
He changed into his best jeans and the shoes he only wore when he wanted to look intentional.
He stepped into the bathroom and brushed his teeth longer than necessary, ran water through his hair, and adjusted it with more precision than he’d ever admit to out loud.
Finally, he reached for the cologne he rarely bothered with.
The clean scent settled against his skin and he stared at himself in the mirror, annoyed by the effort he’d just made.
This was stupid.
He grabbed his keys before he could reconsider any of it and headed downstairs.
* * *
As soon as the doors parted, the music swallowed them whole. Heat pressed in first, thick with perfume and liquor, the bass settling low in Knox’s chest before his eyes even adjusted to the dark.
Logan stepped forward without hesitation, comfortable anywhere. Miguel followed, grinning at the stage to their left where a dancer moved under fractured gold light. Knox walked in behind them and let the room wash over him.
They moved toward the main floor, weaving between tables. A server brushed past with a tray balanced expertly overhead. Cash flashed briefly in the corner of his vision before disappearing into a garter.
Miguel leaned close enough to be heard over the bass. “Still glad we came?”
“Yeah,” Knox said.
Logan glanced back at him. “You don’t sound convinced.”
“I am.”
They reached the bar and claimed a spot at the counter. Drinks landed in front of them a minute later. Knox picked his up and turned, letting his eyes move across the room without appearing to search. Nothing. No familiar dark suit. No presence that shifted the air around him.
Irritation flared under his ribs. He took a slow sip and let his eyes drift again.
That’s when he saw Cassian. Upstairs, half-lounging against the railing, one arm draped carelessly around a woman who seemed more than happy with the arrangement.
She was laughing openly, fingers trailing along his chest as he murmured against her ear.
Then his eyes lifted and locked on Knox. Recognition flickered first, followed by amusement. Cassian didn’t look away. Not even when the woman tugged at his collar to reclaim his attention. A slow smile spread across his face, like he’d just been handed entertainment.
Miguel noticed the change in Knox’s posture. “You know him?”
“Yeah.”
“Who is he?”
Knox didn’t answer.
Up above, Cassian disentangled himself with confidence.
He said something to the woman, pressed a kiss to her temple, then stepped back.
His phone was already at his ear by the time he hit the first step of the staircase.
The exchange was brief, and by the time he reached the bottom, the phone was back in his pocket.
Cassian moved through the crowd without hurry.
Logan leaned closer. “That guy’s walking straight at us.”
“Yeah,” Knox said quietly.
Miguel exhaled. “He looks dangerous.”
“He is.”
By the time Cassian reached the bar, his grin was still in place. “Well,” he said. “This is unexpected.”
Knox kept his tone even. “Is it?”
“Little bit.” His eyes drifted to Miguel and Logan, assessing without being obvious about it. Miguel straightened and Logan gave a polite nod, unsure whether this was friendly or not.
Cassian leaned one elbow against the bar and looked back at Knox. “What brings you into my favorite corner of the city?”
Knox shrugged one shoulder. “Needed a drink.”
“You could’ve had one anywhere.”
“Thought I’d expand my horizons,” Knox said.
“Did you.” Cassian’s mouth curved around the words.
Knox held his gaze. “Yeah.”
Miguel shifted beside him, clearly aware something was happening beneath the surface but not sure what. Logan watched with open curiosity, like this had just become more interesting than the stage.
Cassian studied him a second longer, then pushed off the bar. “Well,” he said, lifting a hand to the bartender. “Let’s make sure the horizon’s worth expanding.”
He ordered four shots without asking. The glasses arrived quickly, lined up between them. Cassian handed them out with a grin. “To new experiences.”
Logan laughed. “Now that’s a toast.”
Knox downed it in one swallow, the burn sharp and grounding.
Cassian wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then looked properly at the other two. “Cassian,” he said, offering his hand, before leaning back against the bar and sliding seamlessly into conversation.
Knox stood half-present, half-aware of the entrance without meaning to be.
“Relax,” Cassian said after a while. “The door’s not going anywhere.”
Knox didn’t react fast enough.
Miguel frowned. “What?”
Cassian’s smile deepened. “Your friend here’s been checking the door every thirty seconds.”
“I haven’t,” Knox said evenly.
“Mm.” Cassian tilted his head. “You have.”
Logan glanced toward the door, then back at Knox. “Are you expecting someone?”
Knox met Cassian’s gaze instead. “No.”
Cassian watched him, clearly enjoying the denial. “Don’t worry. He’ll be here any minute now.”
Heat instantly climbed Knox’s neck.
Miguel blinked. “Who?”
Cassian only smiled.
Knox’s jaw tightened. “You’re assuming a lot.”
“Am I?”
Before Knox could answer, Cassian straightened, glancing toward the entrance. The teasing expression faded and refined into something more alert. “There,” he murmured.
Knox turned despite himself.
Dominic was already walking toward them.
Oh.