Page 117 of Knuckles & Knives
He’s right, though the transformation hasn’t been without cost. The woman who infiltrated the Obsidian fight club eighteen months ago was driven by hatred and a desperate need for vengeance. The woman standing here now has found something infinitely more valuable—purpose that extends beyond personal pain.
“The others are waiting in the car,” Dom adds, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “Marcus got that call from Chicago. They want to move up the timeline.”
I take one last look at my father’s grave, feeling the weight of everything we’ve built and everything we’re about to undertake. “Then let’s go change the world.”
The drive back to the city gives me time to process the significance of today’s cemetery visit. Not just paying respects to the dead, but acknowledging how completely we’ve honored Vincent Blackwood’s vision while discarding everything toxic about his methods.
“Chicago’s not going to be like here,” Kieran observes from his position in the front passenger seat, his ice-blue eyes reflecting the morning light streaming through the windows. “More entrenched opposition. Older power structures. Less community trust.”
“Which is why they need us,” I reply, watching the city wake up outside our bulletproof windows. Families heading to school and work without fear. Businesses opening in neighborhoods that used to be battlegrounds. Children playing in parks that used to be no-man’s lands.
“Plus,” Axel adds with his characteristic wild grin, “it’ll be fucking interesting to see if we can replicate what we’ve built here in a completely different environment.”
“We can,” Marcus states with analytical certainty, his fingers dancing across multiple screens displaying demographic data, economic projections, and political mapping. “The model is sound. The principles are universal. The only variable is implementation speed.”
The confidence in his voice reminds me why our unconventional arrangement works so well. Each of my men brings something essential to our operation—Dom’s protective strength, Kieran’s strategic elegance, Marcus’s analytical precision, Axel’s intuitive chaos. Together, we’re capable of things none of us could achieve alone.
Back at the penthouse, I find myself drawn to the wall of windows that overlook our transformed territory. Eighteen months ago, this view showed blocks of urban decay, abandoned buildings, and streets controlled by fear. Now it displays a thriving community that’s become a model for urban renewal across the country.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Marcus asks, appearing beside me with two cups of coffee prepared exactly the way I like it.
“Just thinking about how much has changed,” I reply, accepting the warmth gratefully. “Sometimes I can barely remember the woman who walked into that fight club looking for revenge.”
“She’s still there,” he observes with the kind of insight that makes him invaluable. “Just evolved. Refined. Focused on creation instead of destruction.”
“Is she?” I ask, genuinely curious about his psychological assessment. “Or is this a completely different person wearing Raven Blackwood’s face?”
“Both,” he says after considering the question seriously. “The core remains—your intelligence, your determination, your capacity for strategic thinking. But you’ve shed the parts thatwere limiting you. The anger, the tunnel vision, the need to prove yourself through violence.”
“And replaced them with?”
“Love,” he says simply. “For us. For this community. For the vision of what power can become when it’s used to build rather than destroy.”
The observation hits deeper than I expected, carrying truth that I’ve been reluctant to examine too closely. Everything we’ve accomplished—the territorial restructuring, the community development programs, the transformation of criminal enterprise into legitimate business—all of it stems from choosing love over hate, creation over destruction.
“There’s something else,” Marcus continues, his tone shifting to something more serious. “Something I’ve been tracking that we need to discuss.”
The change in his voice draws Dom, Kieran, and Axel from their various activities, their protective instincts activated by the subtle tension in the room.
“What kind of something?” I ask, though part of me already knows the answer won’t be entirely pleasant.
“Federal interest has escalated beyond curiosity,” he reports, his screens now displaying surveillance photos, bureaucratic organizational charts, and what appears to be a comprehensive dossier on our operations. “They’re not just studying our model anymore. They’re building a case.”
“For what?” Dom asks, his voice carrying the kind of calm that usually precedes extreme violence.
“Unknown,” Marcus admits. “But the resources they’re dedicating suggest they view us as either a significant threat or a valuable asset.”
“Or both,” Kieran adds grimly, his strategic mind already calculating possibilities. “An organization that’s successfully transformed criminal enterprise into legitimate communitydevelopment could either be recruited or neutralized, depending on political priorities.”
“Let them come,” Axel says with characteristic directness. “We’re not doing anything illegal. Haven’t been for months. If they want to investigate legitimate businesses that happen to be more successful than traditional approaches, they’re welcome to waste their time.”
“It’s not that simple,” I observe, moving away from the windows to pace the length of our living room. “Success at our level inevitably attracts attention from people who profit from maintaining existing power structures. We’re demonstrating that their methods are unnecessary and their results are inferior.”
“Which makes us dangerous,” Kieran concludes.
“Exactly.”
“The Kowalskis have gone quiet,” he adds, tapping a photo on the dossier. “Which might be the most dangerous thing of all.”
