Page 15 of Rocky Top

Chapter 3

Rocky

Knox’s garage was silent. The kind that meant somethin’ was comin’.

He stood over the workbench, sleeves pushed up, arms flexed as he pretended to care about the carburetor guts scattered across the table. But he hadn’t turned a damn wrench since I walked in.

“You needed somethin’, Prez?” I asked, leanin’ against the frame of the open bay door.

He didn’t look at me when he spoke. “You remember what you swore to me, back when I made you my VP?”

I frowned. “Which part? Loyalty, silence, or blood?”

His jaw ticked. “All of it.”

I stepped in closer, boots echoing on the concrete. “Say what you wanna say, Prez.”

Now he turned. Eyes burnin’ that amber-bronze color that only showed when his fox was near the surface. “You left a job unfinished.”

My shoulders tensed. “I finished what needed finishin’.”

“No,” he growled. “You left him breathin’. You leftthembreathin’.”

“You wanted him scared,” I said carefully. “You said make it count. You never saidkill.”

“I didn’t think I had to.”

His voice was low, lethal, but not yellin’. That was the thing about Knox. He didn’t need to shout to cut deep.

“You’re the one who told me,” I said, takin’ a step forward. “Back when we were all younger and dumber, that vengeance without strategy gets a fella killed. I did what I had to.”

He slammed a hand down on the bench. The metal clanged like a war drum. “And now he’s back, Rocky”

“He’s in the slammer, Knox. He didn’t go after Birdie.”

“Somethings crawlin’ through shadows, lookin’ for ways to hurt my family. You think that’s strategy?”

“I think it’sunfinished business,” I shot back.

His lip curled, not in anger, but disappointment. That hit worse.

“He took Eliza and Emma,” he all but growled. “You remember that?”

“I remember.”

“He left scars on both of ‘em. Seen and unseen.”

“Iremember,” I snapped. “I was there, wasn’t I? I carried Eliza outta there.”

We stood there, nose to nose, both of us vibratin’ with fury. Beasts, tryin’ not to shift.

“I’m gonna marry her. She’s it for me,” he said. “Always has been. But I can’t build a life with threats at our door.”

I swallowed hard. “You askin’ me for a wedding gift?”

“I’m askin’ you to finish the goddamn hunt,” he said. “Quiet. Final. No fanfare. No blood trail leadin’ back here.”

I looked out through the bay door, where the wind kicked up dust across the gravel lot.

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