Page 43 of A Smile Full of Lies (Secrets of Stonewood #1)

He’d always told me: If something happens to her, I want to know first.

And this? This was something.

I hit call.

Two rings. Then his voice, low and clipped:

“Detective Allen?”

“Knox.” My throat felt tight. “You need to come to the hospital.”

“Why? What the fuck happened?”

“It’s Ros,” I said. “She’s alive. She’s strong. But she’s been stabbed.”

The beat of silence that stretched over the line made me want to scream.

“How bad?”

I swallowed.

“Bad enough she needed a paramedic ride. I’m with her now. They’re doing everything they can.”

A sound escaped him — something low and raw, like he was trying not to break something.

“Get her stable,” he said, his voice flat. Controlled. Deadly.

Then the line clicked dead. I exhaled and looked down at Ros.

“Jesus, sweetheart,” I whispered. “You’ve got that man strung tighter than a tripwire.”

And tonight, I had a feeling something was going to snap.

The ambulance stopped, and then activity exploded around me.

The hospital doors swung open as the gurney burst through, EMTs barking vitals and trauma codes in clipped, urgent voices.

“Twenty-five-year-old female, slash wound to the lower abdomen, stab wound to the chest, suspected internal bleeding — BP’s tanking.”

I jogged alongside the stretcher, keeping one eye on Ros and the other on the entrance. The ER was bathed in that sterile, humming white light that never felt warm, no matter how bright it was. A nurse in scrubs met us with a crash cart. A trauma doctor flanked him, gloves already on.

“OR is prepped,” the doctor snapped. “Move her now.”

I slowed just long enough to watch them wheel Ros away down the corridor, her blood still wet on her skin, her eyes barely open.

Then I turned and saw him. Knox.

He moved through the automatic doors like a storm, all hard shoulders and dangerous silence, his eyes already scanning the room with barely leashed violence simmering just beneath the surface.

He wasn’t wearing a suit anymore. Just black jeans and a charcoal henley stretched over muscle and fury, his jaw clenched so tight I could see the vein ticking in his temple.

When he spotted me, he stalked forward like a man with nothing left to lose.

“What the fuck happened?”

His voice was low, flat — but his blue eyes were cold wildfire.

I held up both hands.

“She’s alive. She’s in surgery. But she lost a lot of blood.”

He took one step closer, looming over me in a move that suggested barely contained violence.

“Alyssa.”

“Slow down. Let me say it,” I said gently. “You need to breathe for this.”

He stared me down.

I lowered my voice.

“Ros solved your family’s murder, Knox.”

His brows furrowed.

“What?”

“Your family,” I said. “She figured it out. She connected the footage. Got the confession. She wore a wire. Got Thayer talking.”

His face went white.

“Thayer?”

“She was going to bring it to me,” I said. “But he figured it out while she was talking to him. He stabbed her before I could get there.”

Knox looked like he’d just taken a bullet to the chest.

“She almost died solving your family’s cold case,” I said, my voice hoarse. “She did it for you… to protect you.”

His hand curled into a fist at his side.

“Is he dead?”

I nodded once.

“He came at her with a butcher knife. I put two bullets in his chest and one in his head.”

Knox’s chest heaved.

He didn’t speak again. Just turned and stalked toward the surgical wing like he was barely holding his body together with spite and willpower.

And I didn’t blame him. Because if it had been me in his position? I’d already be hunting ghosts.

I followed him down the hallway, my boots thudding softly against the polished hospital floor. Knox moved like a man seconds from exploding — shoulders tense, fists clenched, rage humming just beneath his skin like an exposed live wire.

“Knox,” I called, low but firm.

He didn’t stop.

“Knox.”

Still nothing.

I picked up my pace until I was next to him.

“She’s going to make it. The surgeons are good.”

“She shouldn’t have been there,” he growled, voice low and dangerous. “She shouldn’t have fucking gone in alone. As a matter of fact, she shouldn’t have gone at all.”

“She wasn’t alone,” I said. “I was backup. She was wired. I was two minutes out.”

He halted so fast I nearly ran into him.

His gaze turned toward me, feral and gleaming.

“Two minutes out,” he repeated, voice razor-sharp. “She got stabbed, Alyssa. I don’t give a fuck how close you were — he stabbed her. She almost died.”

“She didn’t,” I snapped, stepping in front of him. “Because she fought back. Because she was smart. Because she believed in what she was doing.”

His jaw worked, chest heaving.

“She should’ve told me.”

“Would you have let her do it?”

“Hell no.”

“Exactly.” I let that sit there for a beat, then softened my voice. “She did it to protect you.”

His brow furrowed.

“You said that once already. Protect me from what, exactly?”

“She didn’t want you to find out that Thayer was involved and do something that would land you in prison,” I said. “She knew you’d go nuclear.”

He went still.

“She cares about you, Knox. And you know damn well she does,” I said. “This wasn’t a betrayal. It was an act of faith. She trusted me to get her out. Trusted herself to get the confession. And she did. Because she knew what was at stake. To be precise – you.”

His throat bobbed, hard.

I lowered my voice further.

“Don’t let your anger drown out what this really means. She solved the case, Knox. For you. Because you’re important to her.”

He looked away, his breath sharp, ragged.

“Go sit down,” I said quietly. “She’ll need you when she wakes up.”

He didn’t answer — but he turned and headed for the waiting room, tension still bleeding off him in waves.

I followed at a distance, heart hammering in my chest.

Knox dropped into the vinyl chair outside the ICU bay, his elbows braced on his knees, head bowed. His hands flexed over and over like he didn’t know what to do with them now, when he couldn’t wrap them around someone’s throat.

I stood a few feet away, giving him space — but not too much. He was barely holding it together. I could see it in the way his jaw clenched, the twitch at the corner of his eye, the bone-white grip of his knuckles.

More than an hour passed – he sat there, frozen, holding himself still by sheer willpower.

I gave him coffee and he drank it, almost as if he wasn’t even aware of doing so.

I told him, in a quiet voice, exactly what had happened, what Thayer had confessed to, what evidence there was.

I wasn’t sure that he heard any of it, but me talking to him seemed to help him stay steady.

Then an exhausted looking nurse stepped into the room, and came to us.

“She’s stable,” the nurse said quietly. “She made it through surgery.” Then they turned away, leaving us there.

He nodded once, barely, as if unable to believe that the words had been real. But his shoulders dropped, and some of the tension left him.

“I need to head back to the station.”

His head lifted slightly.

“Hale’s pulling the warrant now,” I continued. “We’ve got a narrow window before word spreads and someone from Thayer’s crew gets the bright idea to crack that safe and disappear the evidence. We need those shell casings, Knox. Ballistics match means case closed. Justice for your family. For Ros.”

His gaze flicked toward the closed ICU doors. A muscle ticked in his cheek.

I took a step closer.

“But I’m not leaving unless you give me your word you’ll stay. She’s gonna wake up scared, in pain, probably trying to downplay all of it like she always does. She needs someone here. She needs you.”

His voice was low. Rough.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“You swear?”

Knox finally looked at me. Eyes dark. Steady. Unshakable.

“I swear on my life.”

Something loosened in my chest.

“Okay,” I said. “Then I’ll go do the paperwork. You just — be here when she opens her eyes.”

He didn’t nod. Didn’t speak again. Just sat there like a storm in the shape of a man, holding vigil for the girl who’d risked everything to protect him.

I turned and headed for the elevators. Ros had done her part. Now it was our turn not to let her down.