Page 65 of Knuckles & Knives
Looking around at these three men—and thinking about the fourth who just chose us over everything he was born to—I realize that despite all the violence and chaos, despite all the ways this could destroy us, I wouldn’t trade this for anything.
We’re building an empire on loyalty and blood and love. And anyone who threatens that is about to discover exactly how far we’re willing to go to protect it.
Richard Sterling has no idea what’s coming for him.
But he’s about to find out.
start
CHAPTER 21
The chair beside Dom’s bed is empty when I wake up.
I blink in the early morning light filtering through the medical facility’s windows, my neck stiff from falling asleep curled against Dom’s uninjured side. He’s still sleeping, his breathing deep and even—the first real rest he’s gotten since the shooting. Marcus is at his laptop in the corner, surrounded by empty coffee cups and the organized chaos of his intelligence gathering.
But Axel’s chair—the one he hasn’t left for days except to use the bathroom—sits vacant, his leather jacket draped over the back like a discarded skin.
“Where’s Axel?” I ask Marcus quietly, not wanting to wake Dom.
Marcus looks up from his screen, dark circles under his eyes making him look older than his thirty-one years. “Gone when I got back from my security check an hour ago. Left this.”
He hands me a folded piece of paper with my name scrawled across it in Axel’s distinctive handwriting—all sharp angles and barely controlled energy, like the man himself.
R—
Some ghosts you have to face alone. Don’t come looking for me. Don’t send the others. This is personal now.
Trust me.
—A
My blood runs cold. “Fuck.”
“My sentiment exactly,” Marcus says grimly. “I’ve been trying to track his phone, but he’s disabled it. No GPS, no communication, nothing.”
“What aren’t you telling me?” I demand.
Marcus hesitates then turns his laptop screen toward me. “I finished analyzing the intel Kieran provided. The mercenaries weren’t just hired muscle. They were specialists. Former military, ex-intelligence operatives. The kind of people you bring in for surgical strikes.”
“So?”
“So one of them had a very specific skill set. Psychological warfare, interrogation, target elimination using… creative methods.” Marcus’s fingers drum against his desk. “Methods that match the profile of someone Axel has been hunting for years.”
The pieces click together with sickening clarity. “The Ghost Hunter.”
Marcus nods. “Real name Viktor Kozlov. Yes, from that Kozlov family. He’s been using mercenary work to track down fighters who escaped his… experimental programs. Axel was one of them.”
I sink into the empty chair, Axel’s jacket soft against my back. The fragments of information we’ve gathered about his past suddenly form a clearer picture—the mysterious scars, the wayhe sometimes flinches from unexpected touch, the nightmares he thinks we don’t notice.
He must’ve been part of this experimental program before my father took him in.
“How long has he known?” I ask.
“Based on his browsing history? He identified Viktor from the security footage about six hours after the attack. He’s been planning this ever since.”
Dom stirs beside me. His dark eyes open and immediately seek me out then move to the empty chair.
“Where’s our wildcard?” he asks, his voice rough with sleep.
