Chapter 21
Dominic
He slid into the booth beside Cassian like the last ten minutes hadn’t happened.
The club folded around him immediately—bass vibrating through the floorboards, lights stroking across the crowd in restless color.
Everything moved the way it always did. Bodies packed, drinks lifted, laughter cutting through the music.
Exactly the way it was supposed to be.
Dominic reached for a glass waiting on the table and took a drink, letting the burn of it settle his breathing.
Cassian watched him over the rim of his own glass. “You disappear with the kid and come back looking like that.”
“Looking like what?”
Cassian tilted his head. “Like he managed to get under your skin.”
“Careful.”
Cassian’s grin widened, entirely unbothered. “That sounded dangerously close to a threat.”
“It’s advice.” Dominic ignored him after that. His attention had drifted back across the room, instinctively scanning the crowd.
And then Knox reappeared. He pushed through the crowd from the direction of the hallway and reached the table. The moment he realized Dominic was there, he hesitated before sitting down. It was subtle enough that most people wouldn’t have noticed.
Dominic caught it.
Knox’s shoulders tightened before he leaned toward his friends and spoke over the music, the words lost in the noise. One of them glanced between them with visible curiosity, clearly sensing the tension but not understanding it.
Knox kept his focus firmly on the table. Avoiding Dominic entirely.
Up close, he looked disheveled from earlier—hair still out of place where Dominic had grabbed it, lips faintly flushed, expression guarded in that stubborn way Dominic had started to recognize.
And he looked—
Beautiful.
The thought slipped through his mind before he could stop it.
Dominic blinked once. What the hell was that? He dragged his attention away, annoyed with himself for letting it register at all.
Across the table, the dancer Knox had kissed smiled at him. “You ditched me earlier,” she pouted.
Knox gave her a quick, distracted smile that didn't reach his eyes. “Just needed a minute.”
He looked like he was about to say something to his friends, mouth already opening.
Then his eyes moved to a point behind Dominic.
Whatever he saw there wiped everything else off his face in an instant.
Knox’s body reacted before his voice did.
He was already moving out of the booth before he shouted, “Dominic—”
The warning tore out of him a fraction of a second too late.
Instinct took over.
Dominic twisted sideways just as someone lunged, the flash of steel catching the light before the blade came down.
The movement was fast—clumsy with desperation, but close enough to matter.
He turned his body, but the knife still found him.
Steel dragged across his upper arm in a sharp burning line.
Pain registered distantly. What mattered was the hand holding the knife.
Dominic caught the attacker’s wrist before the man could recover and drive the blade forward again.
Their momentum carried them into the table, glasses shattering under the impact as Dominic slammed the man’s arm down hard.
The knife slipped free and clattered across the floor.
For a second, the club hadn’t caught up to what was happening. The music still thundered through the speakers, dancers moving on stage like nothing had changed.
Then Cassian moved. “What the fuck?” He came over the booth in a single motion, grabbed the attacker by the collar and drove his fist into the side of the man’s head with brutal efficiency.
Bone cracked audibly over the music. The man staggered, but Dominic already had him, twisting the arm he was holding and forcing him down across the table.
Liquor spilled across the surface as the man’s chest hit hard.
Now the room reacted. Someone screamed. People nearby pushed away from the booth in a sudden ripple of movement.
The attacker tried to wrench free, panic flashing across his face now that the momentum of the strike had failed. Dominic drove his forearm across the man’s throat and pinned him. “Stupid move,” he said.
The man spat blood.
Dominic tightened his grip until the thrashing stopped and the choking started instead.
Security forced their way through the crowd. “Take him,” Dominic said.
Two guards grabbed the attacker and hauled him upright. His feet dragged against the floor as they pulled him away, face swelling where Cassian had hit him. Cassian fell into step beside them, rolling his sleeves up like he was anticipating the next part.
Dominic straightened. Now that the adrenaline was fading, the cut along his arm had begun to throb properly. Blood was seeping through the sleeve, darkening the fabric in an unmistakable stain.
The club had dissolved into chaos around them. People were shouting, trying to see what had happened. The sudden silence where the music had been made the whole room feel wrong, everything buzzing with a frightened confusion.
Unacceptable.
He caught Missy’s eye behind the bar and crooked a finger. She came over quickly, pale but composed enough to keep moving.
“Music back on,” he said. “Send drinks out. On the house for the next round. Make sure they stay. Make sure they want to come back.” He paused. “Tell the girls there’s a bonus tonight if everyone keeps smiling.”
She nodded, turning away to start barking instructions to the staff.
The music started again, and servers moved through the crowd with fresh trays as the first round of free liquor began to circulate. Conversation rose in cautious bursts, laughter following a moment later as people decided the night wasn’t over after all.
Knox was still standing where he had been.
He hadn’t moved when the crowd scattered.
While everyone else had backed away from the violence, Knox had remained in place.
Now he crossed the space between them without hesitation.
His attention went straight to Dominic’s arm and his eyes narrowed. “Are you okay?”
“I’ve had worse,” Dominic said, glancing down at the sleeve almost absently. At least the fabric was soaking up the blood instead of letting it drip onto the floor. He wouldn’t have long before that changed, though. He needed to get out of here.
Knox didn’t look convinced.
For a moment neither of them moved. The space between them felt strangely still.
The memory of Knox’s voice cut through his mind.
The warning had most likely saved him from more harm, but he shouldn’t have needed the warning at all.
He’d let himself get distracted by a pair of blue eyes and a mouth he was trying really hard not to notice.
He had no business thinking about such things in the middle of a room full of possible threats.
That carelessness could have gotten him killed.
That was inexcusable.
Knox was watching him, an unsettled expression playing across his features.
Dominic tipped his head toward the corridor where the guards had taken the attacker. “You coming?”
The words landed somewhere between a question and a command. He was immediately irritated. Why the hell did he want Knox with him?
He didn’t examine it.
Knox held his gaze for a long moment, weighing the invitation. Then he glanced back toward his friends, standing a few feet away, watching them with open confusion.
Right.
Of course.
Knox scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck and headed over to them.
Dominic stayed where he was and watched from a distance.
Knox leaned in to say something over the music.
The blond frowned immediately, while the darker one pushed back, clearly unhappy about it.
Whatever he said next seemed to settle it, or at least end the argument.
One of them looked toward Dominic with obvious distrust. The other looked like he had ten questions he wasn’t going to get answers to.
Knox clapped them on the shoulder and stepped away before they could stop him.
Dominic was still watching when Knox stopped in front of him. “Let’s go,” he said.
* * *
The holding cell sat in the sealed-off basement beneath Dominic’s warehouse, a square of reinforced concrete carved out below ground level.
It had been soundproofed years ago, when Dominic decided it was easier to deal with problems on his own property than anywhere else.
There were occasions when problems needed to be contained before they could be solved.
Tonight was one of those occasions.
The attacker had been thrown onto the floor the moment they arrived.
Now he was on his knees, wrists bound in front of him, breathing hard through the blood running slowly from his nose.
The adrenaline that had carried him through a crowded club with a knife had burned off completely. In its place was something uglier.
Fear.
Dominic stepped inside the cell, Cassian following close behind. Knox remained in the doorway looking in. Dominic was aware of him standing there without needing to look.
He rolled his injured arm once. The cut pulled, sharp and unpleasant, and served as a useful reminder of why the man was kneeling in front of him.
Cassian had insisted on having it stitched, but Dominic had waved him off, settling for a quick bandage instead.
It was still bleeding, but not as profusely as before.
It would hold for now. The stitches could wait until he’d finished this business.
He stepped closer. “You tried to kill the wrong man.”
The attacker’s chest rose and fell unevenly as he looked up at him. “I didn’t—”
Dominic’s shoe drove into his ribs before the sentence could finish. The crack of impact echoed off the walls. The man collapsed sideways, a strangled cry tearing out of him as the air left his lungs.
Dominic stepped forward and kicked him again.
And again.