Page 76 of Knuckles & Knives
“Chaos,” Marcus says without looking up from his screens. “Complete, coordinated chaos that hits them from every possible angle simultaneously. While Dom leads the frontal assault and Kieran handles the political diversions, Axel creates mayhem from the inside and I systematically dismantle their electronic defenses.”
I study the tactical display, seeing not just the Sterling compound but the web of connections that extends from it—allies, resources, escape routes, weaknesses. This isn’t just about eliminating Richard Sterling. This is about sending a message to every organization in this city that we’re not just Vincent Blackwood’s daughter and her collection of dangerous lovers.
“Timeline?” I ask.
“Forty-eight hours,” Dom answers. “Long enough to position our people and coordinate with our allies, short enough that Sterling can’t adapt to the intel leak Marcus planted.”
The intel leak—a stroke of genius that makes me appreciate Marcus’s devious mind all over again. By feeding Richard’s network false information about a planned attack on his secondary compound, we’ve drawn his security resources awayfrom the main target while simultaneously making him feel overconfident about his primary defenses.
“Contingencies?” I continue.
“Multiple extraction routes,” Kieran reports. “Safe houses established in six different locations. Medical support standing by. And if everything goes to hell, we’ve got enough firepower to fight our way out of anything short of a military intervention.”
“Which won’t happen,” Marcus adds, finally looking up from his laptops. “Richard’s been carefully positioned to look like the aggressor in this conflict. When his compound burns, it’ll appear to be the result of his war with the Volkov family, not our operation.”
The plan is elegant in its complexity and brutal in its simplicity. We hit hard, fast, and from every angle while maintaining plausible deniability. By tomorrow night, Richard Sterling will be dead and his organization will be in chaos, leaving a power vacuum that we’re perfectly positioned to fill.
“Questions?” I ask, looking around the table.
“Just one,” Axel says, his wild eyes meeting mine. “Are we really doing this? Going all-in, no holding back, burn-it-all-down war?”
It’s a good question. Once we cross this line, there’s no going back. We’ll be committed to a path that ends either with our complete victory or our complete destruction.
I look at each of them in turn—Dom with his unwavering loyalty, Kieran with his strategic brilliance, Axel with his chaotic energy, Marcus with his calculating intelligence. Four men who’ve chosen to follow me into what might be the most dangerous night of our lives.
“Yes,” I say without hesitation. “We’re really doing this.”
“Then we need to address the elephant in the room,” Marcus says quietly.
He doesn’t look at the screen. He looks at me, and for a second, the weight of it—of all he just gave me—flickers across his face. Not fear, not regret. Just acceptance.
I know what he’s talking about before he says it—the fact that, tomorrow night, any one of us might not come home. The possibility that this united front we’ve built might be shattered by bullets or betrayal or simple bad luck.
“If something happens to me—” I start, but Dom cuts me off.
“Nothing’s going to happen to you,” he says with quiet ferocity. “We won’t let it.”
“You can’t promise that,” I reply. “None of us can. This is war, not a controlled operation. People die in wars, even people we care about.”
The truth of it settles over us like a shroud. For all our planning and preparation, tomorrow night is still a leap into chaos where anything could happen.
“So what are you saying?” Kieran asks, his ice-blue eyes intense.
“I’m saying that if this is our last night together—all of us, alive and whole—then I don’t want to waste it on strategic planning and tactical discussions.”
Four pairs of eyes lock onto mine, and I see my own desires reflected in their faces—the need to connect, to claim, to celebrate what we have while we still have it.
“The plans are set,” Marcus says, closing his laptops with deliberate finality. “The teams are in position. There’s nothing more we can do tonight except wait.”
“And?” Axel prompts, his voice rough with barely contained want.
“And trust each other completely,” I finish. “In every way possible.”
The words are barely out of my mouth before Dom is moving, crossing the room in two long strides to frame my face with hishands. “You’re sure about this?” he asks, his dark eyes searching mine.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” I whisper.
His mouth crashes down on mine with desperate hunger, and I taste victory and fear and absolute devotion in his kiss. When we break apart, both of us are breathing hard.
