Chapter 30
Knox
Knox stayed where he was. His back pressed against the wall, like his body hadn’t gotten the signal that it could move again.
For a moment, nothing made sense. One second, Dominic had been everywhere, impossible to ignore, and the next—nothing.
His thoughts came in slow, trying to catch up to what had just happened. There was still warmth under his skin and the ghost of pressure at his throat.
He blinked, staring ahead without really seeing. Then his gaze shifted. Dominic stood a few steps away. Too far. That was the first thing Knox registered clearly: the distance. It felt wrong in a way he couldn’t immediately explain.
His eyes moved over Dominic, slower now, more focused. Dominic didn’t look right. He looked… flustered. Not that untouchable version Knox was used to. His breathing was off. His expression wasn’t set right. There was something in his eyes that Knox had never seen there before.
What the fuck.
Dominic didn’t get unsettled. Not ever.
“What was that?” Knox asked.
Dominic didn’t answer. He was already pulling himself back together. Knox could see it happening in real time, the tension smoothing out, the expression resetting, everything sliding back into place like nothing had just slipped.
Knox’s confusion burned off fast. “No,” he said, pushing off the wall. “Don’t do that.”
Dominic’s gaze settled on him. Controlled again. “Let it go.”
Knox let out a short breath. “Are you serious right now?”
No response, just that same maddening stillness.
That made it worse. Knox stepped forward, anger rising properly now, cutting through everything else. “You just—what—you lose your head for a second and then decide it didn’t happen?”
“I didn’t lose anything.”
Knox barked out a laugh. “Yeah? Then why did you look like that?”
Dominic didn’t try to answer. He just stood there like the question didn’t matter.
Knox felt an unpleasant twist in his chest. “Right,” he muttered, dragging a hand through his hair. “Of course.”
He exhaled sharply through his nose and pushed it down. He wasn’t doing this. Not now. Not in a hallway. “I need to check on my mom,” he said, voice flat.
He bent down for his keys, grip tightening around them. When he straightened, he unlocked the door without looking at Dominic again. He pushed it open and stepped inside. He heard Dominic follow anyway, the door closing softly behind him.
The apartment felt wrong. Not in a way he could name immediately, but it settled under his skin all the same. The TV was on, casting flickering lights across the living room. The couch was empty. “Mom?” His voice carried through the apartment.
No answer.
A knot formed in his stomach, pushing his body into motion before his brain had caught up. He moved down the hallway, faster now, steps uneven. Her bedroom door was partially open, showing darkness beyond. He pushed it wide.
Everything inside him dropped.
She was on the bed. Too still. One arm hanging off the side, fingers brushing the floor. Her face looked wrong, too pale and slack.
For a second, Knox just—stalled. His brain tried to reject it. Like if he didn’t move, didn’t react, it wouldn’t be real.
Not again.
Not again, not again, not again.
It looped, loud and frantic, dragging something old and buried up with it. Nights he’d tried to forget. Nights filled with the same kind of stillness, the same kind of fear.
He moved across the room in two strides, grabbing her shoulders. “Mom—” His voice cracked as he shook her. “Mom, hey—”
Her head rolled with the movement, her body loose under his hands. A cold spike of panic hit hard. “No, no—” His fingers pressed to her neck, searching, slipping once before he found it.
There.
Still there.
Very weak, but there.
Relief didn’t come. It couldn’t—not with how faint it felt under his fingertips, like it could disappear if he lost focus for a single second.
“Knox.”
He hadn’t heard Dominic move, but suddenly he was there, dropping down close beside him. His hand moved to her face, tilting her head back, lifting her chin to open the airway. He leaned in, eyes on her chest, listening. “She’s not breathing,” he said.
The words hit like a punch.
“Did you feel a pulse?” Dominic asked. Already moving.
“Barely. It’s there. It’s just…”
“Good.” Dominic’s gaze locked on him. “Can you do CPR?”
Knox swallowed. His hands were shaking. “Yes.”
“Help me get her on the floor.” Dominic was already hooking an arm under her, pulling her off the mattress. “Grab her legs.”
Knox scrambled to catch her legs, and together they lowered her to the floor. He dropped to his knees at her side, positioning his hand over her chest the way he’d been taught. The way he remembered. His arms locked, shoulders over his hands, and he pushed down.
Push.
Push.
Push.
Behind him, Dominic’s voice cut through the room, steady in a way that felt almost unreal against everything coming apart in Knox’s chest. “I need an ambulance. Adult female, unconscious, not breathing. She has a pulse, but it’s weak. We’ve started CPR.”
There was no hesitation, just a clean stream of information, like nothing about this was shaking him. Knox clung to the sound of it without meaning to. Something solid to cut through the panic he couldn’t get a grip on.
Push.
Push.
Push.
Dominic’s voice kept going. Something about a possible overdose. Pills. An empty bottle on the nightstand. Knox heard it, but it didn't register at first. They were just more words being handled somewhere behind him.
Then it caught—pills. So that’s what it was this time. The realization landed in a strange, muted way. Almost matter-of-fact. It wasn’t new; this had happened before. He knew this version.
Better than last time.
The thought slipped in before he could stop it. Last time it had been her wrists. Blood everywhere. So much red. His jaw tightened, cutting off the image before it could take shape.
Push.
Push.
Push.
His arms were burning now, a shaking ache setting in that he couldn’t hide. The rhythm was slipping, his breathing out of sync, numbers half-formed and useless in his head. Was he doing this right? Did it matter if he wasn’t?
He kept going.
Air. He needed to give her air. He leaned down, breath unsteady as he forced it into her lungs and watched for her chest to rise. Please. He didn’t know if it was working. He just knew he couldn't stop.
Push.
Push.
Push.
Dominic was back beside him, close enough to feel without looking. “Let me take over.”
Knox didn’t look up. His hands kept moving. “No. I’ve got it.”
“You’re losing the rhythm.”
He pressed harder, like that alone proved something.
“Let me help, Knox.”
He didn’t know how to let go. Stopping wasn’t something he was allowed to do. His arms were shaking too hard to disguise, and his hands weren’t coming down the same way.
Dominic didn’t wait any longer. His hand closed over Knox’s, guiding them away, taking his place without faltering.
Knox sat back and dragged a hand over his face, his arms heavy and useless. He watched without really seeing. Somewhere in the distance, there was a sound.
Sirens.
Knox stayed where he was on the floor, listening to the sound drawing nearer. As long as the sirens were getting closer, then maybe they weren’t too late.
* * *
He hated the smell of hospitals. It sat wrong in his lungs, like a weight he couldn’t breathe past. Antiseptic, plastic, and something underneath both he couldn’t name but recognized anyway. The smell of a place where things went wrong and hope felt thin.
He was sitting, but he didn’t remember choosing to. One second he’d been moving and the next he was here: seated in a chair that felt too hard. He stared at his hands, curled in his lap. There was a tremor there, barely visible unless he looked for it.
Voices moved around him. Nurses. A cart rattling somewhere down the hall. A door opening and closing. None of it stuck. Time didn’t feel like it was moving properly—he couldn’t tell how long he’d been sitting here.
Minutes.
Hours.
It didn’t matter.
The only thing that mattered was the door at the end of the hallway. He hadn’t taken his eyes off it for more than a few seconds at a time.
Dominic was beside him, close enough that their shoulders touched. He hadn’t left. The steady contact grounded Knox in a way he didn’t question and couldn’t have explained. It kept him from slipping too far inside his own head.
I want him to hold my hand.
The thought was almost absurd in its simplicity. Ridiculously needy. Nobody had ever held his hand to comfort him. Not once.
Dominic’s hand closed around his, and Knox froze.
Fuck.
He’d said that out loud.
He turned his head. Dominic wasn’t looking at him—just sitting there, steady as always, holding Knox’s hand like it was the most normal thing in the world.
Knox didn’t pull away. His fingers tightened without him meaning to, as if his body had already decided to hold on.
Something in his chest shifted with it, his vision blurring for a second.
He blinked hard, trying to push it back before it broke through.
But the pressure stayed, building behind his eyes in a way he couldn’t shut down.
He breathed in. Held it. Let it out. The pressure didn’t break, but it didn’t spill over either.
Footsteps approached, and a doctor stepped into view. “Mr. Wolfe?”
He jumped up. “Yeah,” he said, his voice rougher than expected.
The doctor stopped in front of him. “She’s stable.”
The words landed, but they didn’t settle. Knox stared at him, waiting for them to mean something. “What does that mean?”
“Her vital signs are steady. Her heart rate and breathing are under control.”
Knox swallowed. “But she’s not awake?”
“She’s still unconscious. That’s not unusual in a case like this. It may take some time, but she’s responding well.”
The tension in Knox’s chest loosened. He let out a deep breath, the first real one since they’d gotten here. “Can I see her?”
“Yes. We’re moving her to a room now. A nurse will come get you shortly.”
Knox nodded. “Okay. Thank you.”
The doctor moved on. Knox stood there a moment longer, letting the words repeat until they started to feel real.
He sat back down, closer than before, his hand finding Dominic’s instantly. It was the most natural thing he’d ever done and the scariest at the same time.
Dominic’s fingers closed around his.
And Knox held on.