Page 115 of Knight

The words snap the final warning into place.

She’s not just in my space anymore. She’s not just reading my defenses or anticipating my needs. She’s woven herself into every aspect of my life. My family. My work. Everything I’ve kept carefully separate.

She’s become the physical embodiment of the virus I almost got killed destroying.

What I need to do crystalizes with perfect clarity. This isn’t about comfort or connection anymore. It’s about survival. About staying alive. About remembering why I work alone.

About protecting her from the kind of life that put two bullets in my body.

She deserves better than this world. Better than viruses and betrayal and constantly looking over her shoulder. Better than wondering if today will be the day someone decides to use her against me.

Better than dying because I was selfish enough to let her stay.

My brothers will see it coming. They’ve watched me do this before—push people away, isolate myself, retreat behind walls that no one can breach.

But they’ve never seen me do it with someone who matters.

The decision settles into my body with cold certainty.

I need to end this. I need to drive her away before she integrates herself any deeper. Before I forget how to rebuild the walls that have kept me alive all these years.

Before I admit that she already has.

CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR

Evangeline

"Keep still."I press the fresh gauze against Knight's shoulder, careful not to aggravate the wound. The bleeding has mostly stopped, thankfully, but I’m sure every tiny movement must hurt. Not that he’s showing it, of course.

Victor's stitches stand stark against his skin, one set marking his shoulder and the other his side. Even sitting still, he looks like he could collapse at any second. He lost too much blood before we managed to stabilize him. I’m worried that he needs a blood transfusion, although both Rook and Bishop insist he doesn't. But his skin is waxy and gray despite the dim light filtering through the windows.

Distant sounds from the kitchen—the faint clink of mugs, muted voices—filter down the hallway, but I’m too focused on the man in front of me to piece together who’s doing what. I assume that Rook is checking the perimeter again. He’s been especially vigilant since bringing Knight back wounded. Bishop has been monitoring police bands and news coverage, his focus split between updates and keeping an eye on Knight.

"Both wounds need checking again." I keep my voice soft, conscious of the early morning quiet. "Then I’ll get yousomething for the pain. I wish we could go to the hospital and get something stronger than over the counter meds."

He doesn’t respond. There’s something about his posture, a stiffness that doesn’t come just from pain. A distance that feels sharper than words.

When I move to check his back, he sways away slightly. The small movement shouldn’t hurt as much as it does.

"Knight?" His clear withdrawal catches me off guard. "I need to make sure it's not bleeding again."

"It's fine." The words come clipped, carrying none of the warmth from earlier. He won't quite meet my eyes, staring at some point past my shoulder instead.

I study his profile, trying to understand this subtle change. Maybe it's just the pain, or exhaustion from blood loss. But deep down, I know it's not. Something has shifted between us in the last few hours, and I don’t understand what or why.

"At least let me check the bandage." I reach for his shoulder again, but he stands before I can touch him.

The sudden movement pulls at both wounds. I see it in the tightening around his eyes, hear it in the slight hiss as he sucks in a breath, and in the grimace he can’t quite suppress. But he doesn’t sit back down, and he doesn’t let me help.

"The bandage is fine." His voice remains neutral. "You should check on your brother. Make sure he's recovered enough to travel."

"Travel?" The word catches in my throat. "What do you mean?"

"You'll be leaving once Rook confirms the area's clear." His words cut like a razor. "No point sticking around for the encore. Pretty sure everyone’s had enough excitement."

"Just like that?" My fingers clench around the unused gauze. "After everything?"

"The mission is complete." His voice is flat, though the sharp edge of sarcasm is still there. "We did what we needed to, didn’t we? Found your brother. Destroyed the virus." His hand twitches toward the shirt, but he doesn’t pick it up. Even trying would pull at both wounds and likely send him back into unconsciousness. "Time for you to go back to your life."

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