Page 12 of Knox

“Since you already gave her vitamin D,” Mason muttered into his cup.

Black Jack’s glare at us could have melted steel. He knocked back the juice in two gulps and slammed the glass down, sliding it toward Sam. “Fucking delicious. Give me another.”

Sam’s smile softened, and she leaned in to kiss him lingeringly. “Nah, I won’t torture you anymore, hon. Top shelf whiskey coming your way.”

Jackson’s shoulders eased at his girlfriend’s mercy. He turned to me. Then to my split knuckles.

Damn it, I thought I could get away with him not noticing.

Prez didn’t need to say anything; the question hung heavy in the air. Mason, however, had to voice it.

“Wanna explain that?”

I flexed my fingers to show they weren’t totally fucked up. I’d punched a lot of bastards over the years. I wasn’t going to let an idiot like Asher break them now. “Got into a quick brawl last night after a poker game went sideways. The guy was a sore loser.”

Jackson and Mason didn’t look entirely convinced, ready to grill me, but they were distracted by the rest of the club at a nearby table—Abel with Elouise (her baby bump was just two months behind Sam’s), Tex with Carrie, Brody with Andy on his lap—howling with laughter at something Suzie said to Gabriel and Grant. I assumed, based on expressions, that it was at the single men’s glaring single status.

I found myself staring at my club that had grown almost twice its size in just the past year. So much shit had gone down, so much blood spilled, so much destruction caused, and yet, look how happy they all looked. There was nothing but smiles, stolen kisses, and tossed fries at unsuspecting heads. At first glance, no one would be able to guess just how fucked up we all were or the hells we drove through to get where we were.

Hell, half of us thought we’d be dead by now. But nope. We had two babies on the way. Two mini Devils.

No one knew where I had gone last night or what I had done. No one knew that I possibly could have fucked us over big time just by being in the same vicinity as Caroline Bates. Getting into that fight with the Wolverine, Asher…

I had barely slept a wink last night in my rundown apartment. A lot of it was guilt and the subsequent attempts to formulate backup plans. Even now, watching my brothers and their girls, I felt a fist seize my heart and squeeze like a vise.

Did I ruin their chances of happy futures? What if I bring Bates right to the Well’s doorstep?

“Dude. Royal. Knox.”

I didn’t hear Mason barking my name until he slapped me upside the head. He and Sam were watching me with brows slightly knitted. Black Jack had joined Suzie with the others to tell his tale of apple juice woe.

“What?” I drank to hide my embarrassment.

“Thought you’d gone deaf,” Mason grunted. “Eat your damn burger before I?—”

I snatched the burger and fries basket Sam had set down in front of me and shoved the greasy sandwich in my mouth. Condiments and tomato oozed out the sides.

Sam snorted. “Oh, man, you’re hiding something big time, Royal.”

That was when shit hit the fan big time.

The back door of the kitchen banged open, and one of the servers came running out like a hive of bees was after her. She was a lanky teen who only served a couple days a week, had a bit of attitude sometimes, but was otherwise sweet—and had no reason to look terrified after getting off her scheduled break.

“Hanna!” Sam gasped, stopping and steadying the girl to study her with a motherly onceover, checking for anything physical that would make her so upset. “Hon, what’s wrong?”

“Knox,” Hanna croaked. “Knox, I need to see?—”

I dropped my burger and swiped a hand over my mouth. “Here. What’s wrong?”

Her green eyes went huge as she slipped past Sam. The poor girl was shaking like a leaf when she handed me a piece of paper. No, it was a photograph—a Polaroid.

I saw my name in red ink on the back first. I took it more forcefully than I meant, and my thumb smeared the ink.

No. It was blood.

I flipped it over. My gut flipped, too.

It was Caroline. Even in the grainy quality, it was easy to make out her battered, bloody body tied to a chair. For the first time, her hair wasn’t in its usual tight ponytail but in a disheveled mess half covering her face.

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