Chapter 28
Knox
The hotel lounge was open and bright. Floor-to-ceiling windows lined the front. Soft, diffused light poured through them, catching on low tables, polished surfaces and vivid red sofas that didn’t quite belong.
Knox stepped in beside Dominic and understood the choice immediately. Every inch of this room was visible from outside. Cassian and his men wouldn’t be guessing. They’d be watching.
He let his gaze move as they walked—not searching, just reading. Conversations blurred together, staff walked in practiced lines, and guests remained wrapped up in their own worlds.
And toward the back, angled for a clear view of the room, was a man sitting a little too still. The kind of stillness that came from trying very hard not to look afraid.
Knox clocked him in under two seconds. Keegan.
Dominic crossed the lounge without slowing and sat down at the table without asking permission. The space rearranged itself around him the way it always did.
“Keegan.” No greeting. Just the name, laid down like something with weight.
Keegan’s gaze flicked between them. “Dominic,” he returned. “Didn’t think you’d bring company. Who is he?”
Dominic didn’t look at Knox. “He’s here to listen.”
Knox took that as his sign to sit down without introducing himself. Being brought to this table mattered. Dominic never did anything without reason, and the fact he was sitting here, instead of Cassian or anyone else, showed that Dominic trusted him.
Keegan was mid-forties, maybe older. He kept nervously twisting his wedding ring. His drink was barely touched, but the condensation said it had been sitting there a while. He’d arrived early, probably wanted to be settled before Dominic walked in.
Smart, but scared.
“You said you wanted to talk,” Dominic said, one arm along the back of the couch. Casual, if you didn’t know better. Knox knew better.
Keegan exhaled. “Yeah. Mercer’s not… stable right now.”
Dominic didn’t move. “That’s not new information.”
“No,” Keegan admitted. “But it’s worse than you think.”
Knox watched Keegan’s shoulders pull inward, trying to make himself smaller without realizing it. His fingers shifted against each other on the table before going deliberately still.
Dominic’s voice didn’t change. “Then be specific. Because if this is you saving your own ass, you’re going to need more than vague warnings.”
Keegan’s gaze dropped, deciding what to give up, how much, how fast. Then a decision seemed to settle in him. “Mercer’s obsessed with you,” he said. “Not just curious. Obsessed. Everything you do, every move you make… he measures himself against it.”
Dominic didn’t react, not so much as a muscle. Knox had seen him do this before—the deliberate blankness, the refusal to give the other person anything to read. Keegan was talking to a wall and the silence was making him talk faster.
“He’s jealous,” Keegan added. “Of what you’ve built.
How tight you run things. He thinks he should be where you are.
He’s trying to grow faster than he should.
Making moves he isn’t ready for. Promising people things he can’t deliver.
” Keegan leaned forward, lowering his voice.
“He’s planning to take what’s yours. Piece by piece. Territory. Distribution. All of it.”
Dominic’s fingers tapped against the table. “And you’re telling me this out of generosity?”
Keegan shook his head. “I’m telling you because it’s going to blow up. And when it does, you’ll come down on everything connected to him.” A beat. “I don’t want to be part of that.”
Knox believed him. Not because the words were convincing—words were easy—but because of everything underneath them.
The swallow before each answer. The way his hand had gone still once he’d committed, like he’d passed the point of no return and knew it.
The fear was real. The calculation behind it was real too.
This wasn’t a man playing both sides; this was someone who’d already done the math.
“You want protection,” Dominic said.
“Yes.”
“Give me something I can use, and I’ll consider it.”
Keegan held Dominic’s gaze, steadier now. The worst part was over: he’d said what he came to say and hadn’t been killed for it. “I can give you locations, routes, names,” he said.
“Start with something useful,” Dominic said.
Keegan exhaled. “There’s a warehouse. South side. He’s been moving more through there the last two days than anywhere else.”
“Address.”
Keegan gave it without hesitation.
Dominic leaned back. “We’ll verify. If this checks out, we talk about the rest.”
Keegan didn’t relax. “Yeah,” he mumbled. “I figured.”
Dominic stood, Knox followed, and neither of them looked back.
* * *
Five minutes later they were back in the car. Knox leaned into the seat and exhaled slowly, letting the conversation replay.
He glanced at Dominic. He was already on his phone, speaking in clipped tones. “Check the address. I want eyes on it now.” A pause. “No, don't engage. Just watch. Call me the second you see movement.”
He ended the call and put the phone away, gaze shifting to the window.
Knox studied him. “You believe him.” It wasn’t a question.
Dominic didn’t look at him. “What do you think?”
Knox shifted in his seat, one arm resting against the door. “I don’t think he was lying.”
Dominic watched him for a moment, something thoughtful settling behind his eyes. “Good.”
“That’s it?”
A brow lifted. “You want a gold star?”
Knox snorted. “Figured there’d be more feedback.”
Dominic leaned back in his seat. “I trust your judgement.”
It was simple. Direct. But it still did something to Knox’s chest he didn’t want to examine. He looked away, eyes drifting back to the window. “So what now?”
Dominic reached for his phone but didn’t dial, turning it once in his hand. “If the warehouse checks out,” he said, “we move on it.”
Knox’s attention snapped back. “Just like that?”
“Yes.”
Knox frowned. “Isn’t that… dangerous?”
Dominic shot him a sidelong look, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “I thought we’d established we like danger.”
Knox almost smiled. “I’m serious, Dom.”
The smirk disappeared. “So am I. Speed matters. If Mercer’s relying on that location, we need to take it.”
Knox considered that. It made sense—brutal, efficient sense. The kind of logic that didn’t waste time pretending to be anything other than what it was.
“You’re escalating,” Knox said.
Dominic didn’t deny it. “He started it.”
Knox held his gaze. “And you’re going to finish it.”
Darkness moved through Dominic’s eyes. “Yes.”
Knox didn’t look away.
Neither did Dominic.
The air between them shifted—the way it always did with them, like an invisible current snapping into place.
Dominic’s gaze held his, steady and unflinching, but there was heat in it now.
Knox felt it land low in his chest and spread.
His pulse kicked harder. Dominic’s eyes dipped, just for a fraction of a second, to Knox’s mouth.
The look burned.
Knox’s breath caught. His body reacted before his brain could catch up. Every nerve went live, extremely aware of the space between them in the car, how little of it there was.
Say something. Break it.
He didn’t.
Neither did Dominic.
The silence stretched, thick and charged, neither of them willing to be the one to pull back first. Then a door closed behind Dominic’s eyes. “Last night,” he said. “That can only be a one-time thing.”
Knox blinked. It took a second to land. “Right. So it worked?”
Dominic didn’t answer.
Knox leaned back, still watching him. “That was the plan, wasn’t it? Get it out of your system?”
Dominic’s expression didn’t change, but he didn’t say yes.
Knox’s mouth tightened. “So?” he pushed. “Did it?”
Dominic looked away. “It needed to happen.”
“That’s not what I asked,” Knox said.
“This doesn’t exist in my world.”
Knox blinked. “What?”
“This.” Dominic’s eyes came back to him. “Whatever this is.”
Knox’s jaw tightened. “That’s not an answer either.”
“I know. But it’s the only part that matters.”
Knox stared at him. Dominic didn’t look away this time. “In my world,” he continued, “you don’t let things complicate your judgement. You don’t let them grow into something you can’t control.”
Knox's chest tightened. “So that’s it?”
“Yes.” No hesitation.
Knox huffed a small, humorless laugh and let his head fall back against the seat. A part of him—the part that still carried his father’s voice like a mark carved too deep to fully erase—latched onto Dominic’s words instantly.
Good. One time. Better that way.
It meant this didn’t have to mean anything. Didn’t have to turn into something bigger or harder to explain. It didn’t have to define him.
The thought settled in his chest like something that should have brought relief. So why did it feel wrong? It felt like his body hadn’t gotten the message his brain was trying to force through. The ground had shifted, and no amount of calling it a one-time thing was going to shift it back.
Knox swallowed. “And the solution is just—what? Pretend it’s done?”
“The solution,” Dominic said evenly, “is that it is done.”
That landed harder than anything else he’d said.
Knox looked away. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Sure.”
It should have been that simple. But the air between them said otherwise.
* * *
The next few days, Knox stayed close to Dominic. They moved through the city like it belonged to them—or rather, like it belonged to Dominic, and Knox was being shown how that worked. There were meetings, calls, warehouse visits, and quiet conversations that sealed decisions on the spot.
The Mercer location wasn’t just active; it was busy. Information came in constantly. They planned the attack piece by piece. Photos were spread across the table, times scribbled in margins. The plan came together easily.
What wasn’t easy was being this close to Dominic. Every hour spent at his side made him more aware, not less. There was a constant tension that lived in his chest and never quite released, like a wire pulled taut behind his ribs that nobody could see but Knox could feel with every breath.
Dominic’s behavior didn’t change. That might have been the worst part.
He didn’t avoid Knox or pull away, and he never acknowledged what had happened.
He moved through everything the same way he always did: focused, controlled, and entirely himself.
It was as if that night had been filed away in some drawer and the key swallowed.
Except Knox’s body hadn’t gotten the memo.
Not even slightly. Knox noticed everything now, his attention slipping no matter how hard he tried to stay focused.
He would be looking at papers, following the plan, and then his eyes would drift.
They’d get caught on Dominic’s forearms, sleeves pushed back just enough, muscle shifting under skin as he reached across the table.
He’d force himself to look away, but it never lasted. Because then it was his hands. Knox kept getting stuck there more than anywhere else. Big. Strong. Confident in everything they did. His eyes kept drifting back.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Obsessed. That was the word, and he hated it.
“Focus,” Dominic had said, more than once.
Knox would blink, realizing he hadn’t heard a word of what came before. Heat would climb his neck and he’d pray it didn’t show.
It got worse when they moved around each other.
A shoulder brushing his. Dominic’s hand reaching past him to grab something, close enough that Knox could feel the warmth of his arm.
Or they’d lean over the same document, and Knox would be acutely aware of how little space lay between them.
Inches. Nothing. Close enough to feel his breathing, close enough to catch the scent of him—something clean and expensive that he shouldn’t have loved as much as he did.
Every time, Knox’s body would go tight, breath catching before he could stop it. He’d pull back and grab onto whatever they were working on like it could anchor him.
One-time thing, he’d remind himself.
One-time thing.
His body would laugh at him.
And then there were the moments that were worse than all the rest. The ones where Knox would look up and find Dominic already watching him. Color would rise to Knox’s cheeks and he would glance away, suddenly fascinated by anything else in the room.
Knox would stand there with his pulse hammering and think: You feel it too. You absolute bastard. You feel it too and you’re pretending you don’t.
He never said it. He didn’t need to.
The air between them said it constantly.