Page 82 of Knuckles & Knives
“There has to be another way,” Dom insists, his protective instincts warring with his tactical knowledge.
“There is. The way we planned it, with all five of us working together as equals.”
“Equals doesn’t mean expendable,” Marcus says sharply. “Your death doesn’t just end this operation—it ends everything we’ve built together.”
“And your deaths end me,” I fire back. “Do you think I can just go on building an empire if the four men I love die protecting me? Do you think I want to rule over ashes and regret?”
“The answer is still no,” Kieran says, his voice carrying final authority. “We’re not negotiating your safety.”
Something snaps inside me. These men—my men—are trying to protect me by treating me like a helpless asset instead of theleader I am. It’s time to remind them exactly who they’re dealing with.
“You’re not negotiating anything,” I say, my voice dropping to the dangerous quiet that made Vincent’s enemies fear his daughter almost as much as they feared him. “Because you don’t get to make decisions for me.”
I move toward the weapons cache.
Dom steps into my path, his powerful frame blocking my access. “Raven, be reasonable?—”
“Move.”
“No.”
I grit my teeth. Dom, who’s sworn his loyalty to me, is actively defying a direct order. The others watch in silence, clearly supporting his rebellion against my authority.
“I said move, Dom.”
“And I said no.” His dark eyes meet mine without flinching. “I’ve followed you into every dangerous situation, supported every risky decision, never questioned your leadership. But I will not watch you walk into certain death.”
“That’s not your choice to make.”
“It is when you’re not thinking clearly.”
The accusation hits like a slap. “Not thinking clearly?”
“You’re letting emotion override tactical sense,” Kieran adds, moving to stand beside Dom. “Personal feelings are compromising your judgment.”
“My personal feelings?” I repeat, anger beginning to burn in my chest. “You mean my feelings for the four men who are trying to cut me out of the most important operation of our lives?”
“We’re trying to keep you alive,” Axel says, joining the others in what’s clearly a coordinated intervention.
“By treating me like I’m weak. Like I’m something to be protected instead of someone capable of fighting for herself and others.”
“We know you’re not weak,” Marcus says quietly. “We know you’re the strongest person any of us have ever met. That’s exactly why we can’t bear the thought of losing you.”
The raw emotion in his voice almost breaks my resolve. Almost. But not quite.
“Then trust me,” I say. “Trust that I’m strong enough to handle this fight. Trust that I know the risks and I’m choosing to take them anyway. Trust that I’m making this decision not from weakness or emotion, but from the same strategic thinking that’s gotten us this far.”
“We do trust you,” Dom says. “But?—”
“No.” I cut him off. “There’s no ‘but’ when it comes to trust. Either you trust my judgment and my ability to handle myself in combat, or you don’t. And if you don’t, then what exactly have we been building together?”
Now, when the stakes are highest, they’re reverting to some primitive protective instinct that reduces me to something precious and fragile.
“This isn’t about trust,” Kieran says finally. “This is about love. We love you too much to risk you.”
“And I love all of you too much to let you fight this battle without me.”
We’re at an impasse—four men determined to protect me by excluding me, and me equally determined not to be sidelined from the most important fight of our lives.
