Page 40 of Knuckles & Knives
“No,” I say, my voice steady despite everything. “No running, no safe houses, no hiding.”
Dom stops mid-text to stare at me. “Raven, these people?—”
“These people killed my father and would’ve killed me too. They’ve spent five years thinking they won, that they destroyed the Blackwood legacy.” I straighten, feeling something cold and sharp settling into place in my chest. “It’s time they learned how wrong they were.”
“This isn’t a game,” Dom warns. “Victor Moreau doesn’t make idle threats. If he’s reaching out, it means he’s already moving pieces into position.”
“Good.” I move to my bedroom and pull open the drawer where I keep the weapons Marcus has been providing me. “Let him come. Let them all come. I’m done hiding from ghosts.”
Dom follows me, his expression torn between admiration and concern. “What are you planning?”
I check my Glock, the familiar weight of the weapon steadying my nerves. ““I’m planning to do what my father should have done—remind them whose city this really is. I’m going to remind the Silver Serpent why the Blackwood name used to make grown men cross themselves.”
“And us?” he asks quietly. “What happens to what we were just starting?”
I turn to face him, letting him see the resolve in my eyes, the cold fire that’s been building since I read that text. “You said you wanted to show me how to choose family. Prove it. Stand with me, fight with me, and help me burn down everyone who thought they could destroy what my father built.”
For a moment, we just look at each other across the space of my bedroom.
Then, Dom nods once, sharp and decisive. “Always,” he says simply.
CHAPTER 14
The Sterling Industries building rises like a glass and steel monument to legitimate power in the heart of the financial district. Standing forty-two floors above the chaos of the street, it’s the perfect facade for a criminal empire, corporate respectability hiding the blood-soaked foundation beneath.
I shouldn’t be here. Being with Kieran is one thing, especially when I’m also with four other men. Walking into Kieran Frost’s territory now that so many know I’m alive and want me dead is suicide.
But he sent me a message asking him to come to his office alone. Somehow, even his text seems urgent, almost like a command.
Our being together won’t make many happy… especially not his family.
I’m still trying to wrap my head around his not being who I thought he was. For so long, he was only the heir to the rival Sterling Syndicate that was responsible for the death of my father. I know he dropped out of Harvard business school and modernized his family’s criminal enterprises. Publicly,he’s a legitimate businessman, but privately, he’s ruthless in expanding his territory.
That it was Dom’s family who was responsible for my father’s death… That the Sterlings might not have been involved at all but only opportunistic… It’s still hard to accept that.
The private elevator to the executive floor moves with whisper-quiet efficiency, giving me too much time to think about all the ways this could go wrong. Kieran’s family has every reason to want me dead. The Sterling Syndicate built their current power on the ashes of my father’s empire, and my return threatens everything they’ve accomplished in the past five years.
Why meet here? Why not come to my apartment or me to his penthouse?
The elevator opens directly into his penthouse office, and I’m struck immediately by the contrast to Marcus’s. Where Marcus favors technological sophistication, Kieran’s space screams old money and older power. Rich mahogany, leather-bound books, oil paintings that probably cost more than most people make in a year. Even the desk looks like it belongs in a museum.
But it’s the man behind the desk who captures my attention. Kieran Frost, heir to one of the most powerful criminal dynasties in the city, looks like he hasn’t slept in days. His usually immaculate platinum hair is disheveled, his expensive shirt wrinkled, and there’s a wild edge in those ice-blue eyes that sets off every alarm bell in my head.
“You came,” he says, rising from his chair with movements that seem carefully controlled, like he’s holding himself together through sheer force of will.
“You said it was important.” I stay near the elevator.
“It is,” he says, moving around the desk with that predatory grace that makes him so dangerous. “My family has just ordered me to destroy you.”
I force myself to remain still, to project calm I don’t feel. “And you’re telling me this because…”
A flash of hurt appears in his eyes. “Come no, Raven. You know I won’t do it.” He stops just out of arm’s reach, close enough that I can see the exhaustion in his eyes, the stress lines that weren’t there a week ago. “Destroying you would be the biggest mistake of my life, and I’ve made enough of those already.”
“That’s touching, but…” I shift slightly, keeping my weight balanced in case I need to move quickly. “So many different people are telling me various things about the nature of my father’s murder. For all I know, this is just another manipulation. Get me alone, isolated, and finish what your family started five years ago.”
“If I wanted you dead, Raven, you’d never have made it out of that elevator.” His voice is rough with something that sounds almost like pain. “I’ve had dozens of opportunities since you resurfaced. I thought you knew… I thought you understood…”
“I don’t know or understand anything.” I shake my head.
