Page 45 of Hard Bargain

“I didn’t know—”

The desperate overlapping voices bounced off the walls. Knox’s face tightened. “What happens if I get it wrong?”

Dominic held his gaze, refusing to soften the reality of what was happening, but equally unwilling to let Knox shoulder responsibility that wasn’t his. “That’s not your burden. The decision is mine. I’m asking for your instincts.”

Knox swallowed hard, his throat working visibly. He pointed to one of the men. “The blond one. I… I think he’s lying.”

Cassian watched the man for a second, then nodded once. “I agree.”

“And him?” Dominic asked, indicating the older man.

Knox studied him longer. “I think he’s telling the truth. He looks confused. Like he genuinely didn’t know what he got dragged into.”

Dominic studied the man, weighing Knox’s words, then glanced at Cassian, who gave a small, noncommittal shrug. “He’s been saying the same thing since we picked him up. Could be.”

One by one, Knox worked through the others, each answer coming a little easier than the last, though the strain still showed in the sweat gathering at his temples. Dominic listened closely, less interested in whether Knox was perfectly right than in how he reached his conclusions.

His instincts were good. Better than good.

Cassian pressed one man again, dismantling his story piece by piece until the truth surfaced. When Cassian stepped back, the outcome was set. Three had known exactly whose operation they were interfering with. Two had simply been stupid enough to follow orders without asking questions.

Before Cassian could act, Dominic turned to Knox. He studied the young man’s face, reading the tension in his jaw and the stiffness in his shoulders.

There was horror there. Revulsion, too. But beneath both, he caught something far more interesting. A dark curiosity. Dominic recognized it instantly. The pull of standing too close to the fire and wanting to know how long you could bear the heat. He’d seen it in only a handful over the years, always in a very particular kind of person. Men who couldn’t leave the edge alone. Men who needed danger like oxygen, who were most alive when everything was at risk. It was rare and it was dangerous, but now here it was—alive in the boy who already caught his attention more than he should have.

“You don’t have to watch what comes next,” Dominic said. “You can leave the room if you want. The door’s right behind you.”

Knox’s eyes moved toward the exit, then settled back on the violence about to happen. For a brief moment, he looked torn, but then something in him settled. He shook his head and stayed exactly where he was.

Dominic felt a cold satisfaction settle through him. Keeping him alive had been the right call. Trusting his instincts had paid off, even better than he could have predicted. Knox wasn’t just going to survive in this world; he was going to thrive in it.

He held Knox’s gaze a second longer, then turned to Cassian. “Do it.”

It was all over in seconds as Cassian gave a nod to his men—three guns raised, three muffled shots, three bodies jerking before going still. The sound echoed off the bare concrete walls, loud despite the suppressors.

The two who’d been spared shrank back in their chairs, faces drained of color, shock written so plainly across them it was almost pathetic.

Dominic stepped forward. “You two got lucky today. But listen carefully. If you ever cross me again—whether knowingly or not—I won’t spare you a second time.” He let the words sink in, then added, “When you see Mercer, you tell him what happened here. Tell him I don’t forgive. And I don’t forget.”

Neither man seemed capable of answering, and Dominic didn’t wait for a reply. He turned toward the door, already done with them. “Follow me,” he said to Knox.

They stepped out into the corridor together, leaving blood and chaos behind. His mind was already turning toward the boy at his side, who had just crossed another line and didn’t even flinch.

* * *

The elevator doors slid shut with a soft hiss. He pressed his keycard to the panel and watched the numbers climb all the way to the top. Dominic found himself unusually aware of the choice he was making.

No one came up here. Not women. Not his men. Not even his family. Cassian was the only exception. The loft was his one line of privacy, the place no one touched. Which made the decision to bring Knox here feel strangely reckless.

Why was he doing this?

He glanced at Knox out of the corner of his eye. He told himself it was just practical. Knox had witnessed another execution and needed a place to calm down, time to deal with everything that had happened. Maybe he wanted to show him that this world wasn’t only blood and violence. Or maybe he wanted to keep him close. That thought unsettled him most.

The elevator chimed and the doors slid open. Dominic stepped out into the only place in the city where he ever let his guard down. The space was wide and open. The original brick was left exposed, heavy timber beams overhead, warm wooden floors underfoot. One wall was nothing but glass, offering the kind of view that reminded him of everything he’d built and what it had cost to keep it.

To someone who didn’t know him, the space might have looked austere. It wasn’t. The leather couch was soft and comfy, heavy throws tossed casually across the back. The kitchen was open and lived in, always stocked with the things he liked: good coffee, real bread, cheese, eggs, and fresh fruit. There were no photographs, but traces of him existed everywhere. A stack of books by the window seat. Vinyl records beside the player. A game controller abandoned on the coffee table.

Signs of a life no one was meant to see.