Page 106 of Knuckles & Knives

“What?” Axel asks, leaning forward with the kind of focused attention he usually reserves for planning beautiful chaos.

“A family business,” I say simply. “Legitimate, sustainable, profitable, and dedicated to making the communities we operate in stronger rather than weaker.”

The silence that follows is thoughtful rather than skeptical. These four men have seen what traditional criminal powerstructures produce—corruption, betrayal, endless cycles of violence and revenge. They’ve also seen what we can accomplish when we work together toward common goals.

“It would mean completely restructuring everything,” Kieran observes.

“Everything,” I agree. “New legal frameworks, new business models, new relationships with law enforcement and community leaders. Essentially building from scratch while using existing resources.”

“Risky,” Dom says, but his tone suggests professional assessment rather than personal objection.

“Less risky than maintaining systems based on fear and violence,” Marcus counters. “Those structures inevitably collapse under the weight of their own contradictions.”

“Plus,” Axel adds with his wild grin, “building something new sounds infinitely more interesting than managing something old.”

I look around at my four men—partners in every sense of the word, the foundation upon which any future empire will be built—and feel the familiar surge of confidence that comes from absolute trust.

“Then we’re agreed?” I ask. “Complete transformation, legitimate operations only, sustainable community development as our primary focus?”

“Agreed,” comes the unanimous response.

“Good,” I say, moving back to the conference table where architectural plans and business projections cover every surface. “Because I have some ideas about how we restructure our personal arrangements to match our professional evolution.”

The shift in energy is immediate and electric. For six weeks, we’ve been so focused on external reconstruction that we’ve barely addressed the internal changes that have occurred between us. The ways our relationships have deepened throughshared combat, mutual sacrifice, and absolute trust tested under impossible pressure.

“Our personal arrangements?” Kieran repeats, his voice carefully controlled.

“Five people who love each other,” I say directly, “living and working together, building something that requires complete honesty and trust. We need to establish clear expectations about how that functions long-term.”

“You mean boundaries,” Marcus translates.

“I mean the opposite of boundaries,” I correct. “I mean complete integration of our personal and professional lives, with clear understanding that what we’ve built together transcends traditional relationship categories.”

“Raven,” Dom says carefully, “are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“I’m saying that trying to separate our romantic relationships from our business partnership is artificial and ultimately destructive,” I reply. “We function best when we’re completely honest about what we mean to each other.”

“Which is?” Axel asks.

“Family,” I say simply. “Chosen family, bound by love and trust and mutual commitment to protecting what we’ve built together.”

“All of us?” Kieran asks. “Together?”

“All of us,” I confirm. “Together. Permanently.”

“That’s…” Marcus starts then stops, his analytical mind clearly struggling to process the implications.

“Complicated,” Dom finishes.

“Simple,” I counter. “We love each other. We trust each other. We work together better than any of us function alone. Everything else is just logistics.”

“Logistics like jealousy?” Kieran asks. “Like competing priorities? Like the fact that five people trying to make decisions together could be chaos?”

“Logistics like communication,” I reply. “Like honest conversation about needs and boundaries and expectations. Like the recognition that what we’ve built is stronger than traditional limitations.”

“And if it doesn’t work?” Axel asks.

“Then we’ll figure out what does work,” I say. “Together. Like we’ve figured out everything else.”