Page 22 of Knuckles & Knives

“I know lots of things,brujita, but information like that requires trust. And trust…” He traces the line of my jaw with one finger, the touch feather-light. “Trust has to be earned.”

He’s already moving toward the ropes when I find my voice again. “Axel.”

He pauses, looking back over his shoulder.

“Next time you want to test me, just ask. The games are getting old.”

His laugh is low and rich, filled with genuine amusement. “Where’s the fun in that? Besides,” he drops through the ropes and lands silently on the floor, “I thought you liked dangerous games.”

He disappears into the shadows.

Shit. One kiss with Dom complicated everything. This encounter with Axel just made it exponentially worse.

Now I’m not just fighting for revenge or survival or even my father’s legacy. I’m fighting for something far more dangerous and infinitely more complicated.

I’m fighting for the right to choose my own fate in a world where choice is the rarest luxury of all.

CHAPTER 8

The parking garage beneath the Obsidian is a maze of concrete and shadows, the kind of place where conversations happen that can’t happen anywhere else. I’m heading to my bike to leave when I hear the distinctive purr of an expensive engine echoing off the walls.

A silver Aston Martin slides into view, its headlights cutting through the gloom like predatory eyes. The engine dies, and Kieran Frost emerges with the kind of casual elegance that makes expensive suits look effortless.

Even in the harsh fluorescent lighting, he’s beautiful in that sharp-edged way that makes people stop and stare. Tonight, he’s traded his usual business attire for dark jeans and a black henley that clings to his lean frame, making him look younger, more dangerous, and infinitely more appealing than I want to admit.

“Interesting place for a social call,” I say, not moving toward him.

“Is that what this is?” He approaches slowly, his hands visible and empty, a gesture of peace that somehow feels more threatening than if he’d been armed. “I was under the impression we were past social calls.”

“What do you want, Kieran?”

“To talk. Without an audience, without interruptions, without Dom hovering like an overprotective shadow.” He stops just outside my personal space. I hate that I can recognize the smell of his cologne now… and that the scent makes my pulse spike despite my better judgment. “Five minutes. That’s all I’m asking.”

“You have two.”

His sharp smile turns appreciative. “Efficient. I like that.” The humor fades quickly, replaced by something more serious. “I know you think my family is involved in your father’s death.”

The blood in my veins turns to ice. “And?”

“And it’s not the whole truth.”

“Let me guess. You’re going to tell me your family had nothing to do with it? That Jacek Kowalski acted alone?” I cross my arms, putting up barriers between us. “Save your breath. I’ve seen the evidence.”

“Have you? Or have you seen what Marcus wanted you to see?”

The question hangs in the air like a challenge. There’s something in Kieran’s ice-blue eyes that makes me pause, something that looks almost like… sincerity? But sincerity from a Frost is like promises from the devil—beautiful, compelling, and absolutely worthless.

“Marcus has no reason to lie to me.”

“Doesn’t he?” Kieran steps closer, and I hate the way my body responds to his proximity. “He’s been watching you for years, Raven, even while you were off and hiding. He was waiting for the perfect moment to bring you back into play. Don’t you find that even a little suspicious?”

“Marcus didn’t kill my father.”

“No, but he’s using your father’s death to manipulate you into a war that benefits him.” Kieran’s voice drops, becomingmore intimate, more dangerous. “The Sterling Syndicate wasn’t involved in Vincent Blackwood’s assassination. We had no motive. We were negotiating a territorial agreement that would have benefited both our families.”

I don’t believe him for one second, but that doesn’t stop me from asking, “Then who?—”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out, but I can’t do it with you treating me like the enemy.” He reaches out slowly, giving me time to pull away, before his fingers touch my cheek. “I’m not your enemy, Raven. I never was.”