Page 20 of Knotted

“I don’t know. Get out, I guess.”

“Get out? I didn’t think you could just quit the Army.”

“Technically, it would be a dishonorable discharge.”

The words slam into me like a bat to the chest. “Colby, a dishonorable discharge? Are you serious? They’djust kick you out? How much money are we talking here?”

His hands grip the wheel, knuckles white. “Fifteen thousand dollars.”

Panic seizes me, my breath catching. “Could that mean jail time?” The silence that follows is deafening. “You can’t let that happen, Colby.”

“You think I don’t know that?” his voice snaps, frustration boiling over, cutting through the air like a whip. “Angi’s been digging herself deeper, and I’m not sure she can claw her way out this time.”

“So, what? You’re just going to let her drag you down that rabbit hole with her?”

His breath hitches, anger simmering beneath the surface. “It’s not like I have a fucking choice.” He pauses, jaw tight, eyes locked on the road ahead. “I’m on administrative leave without pay for thirty days. That’s why I’m back—to find her, clean up this mess, or face the fallout on my own.”

I reach out, my hand gliding across his arm, a pathetic attempt at comfort in the middle of this shit storm. “You’re not alone, Colby. We’ll figure this out together.”

The words hang between us, and despite the suffocating tension in the air, his hand smoothes over mine.

An eternity of miles later, Colby leans in, his voice dropping to a rough whisper. “Word on the street is my sister’s been stalking one of my Army buddies.”

A flush creeps up my face. Mortified, I scramble to explain. “My editor gave me an assignment to?—”

“To what? Rip open an old wound and watch it bleed out?” He shakes his head, eyes fixed on the road.

“N-no,” I stammer, flustered. “Just...I don’t know. Conquer a few demons, reclaim myself, prove I’m not some hack who needs to hide away like a mouse afraid of its own shadow.”

“Hiding and healing are two different things.”

Curiosity gnaws at me until the question burning a hole in my brain rushes out of my mouth. “You said Army buddies? As in you and Brian Bishop served together?”

“Yeah. A few times, actually. But that was before...” His voice trails off as he checks the GPS and takes a sharp right. “The thing is, if you lined up a hundred guys and asked me to pick out the asshole, I would’ve ranked him dead last. Shit, you’re gonna hate me for saying this, but I wish I could’ve served with him longer before he bailed.”

The words spill out before I can catch them. “He left the service?”

He gives me a look of pure disbelief. “Wow, you really have been living in a cave. How do you not know?”

“Know what?”

He pulls up to the curb, parking right in front of the building. “Listen, I gave you his coffee order. My stint as your secret spy ends here. Now, get your snooping butt in gear and be the investigative journalist you’ve always wanted to be. I’ve got a manhunt to tackle.”

I’m a little disappointed, but I hop out anyway. “I think you mean a woman-hunt, and when it comes to Angi, start with Dad. She just used his credit card.”

He lets out a relieved breath. “So, she’s alive. Great. Just in time for me to kill her.”

CHAPTER 7

Jules

The newsroom is a pulsating heart of activity, a dizzying mix of rapid-fire conversations, sharp heels clicking on the polished floor, and the rhythmic tapping of keyboards. It’s sleek, modern, and exudes just the type of cold efficiency that says, “Produce or you’re fired.”

This is where globs of content are plucked, sculpted into something glossy, and shoved into the world for story junkies, hungry for their next fix.

I step inside, trying to blend into the polished chaos, but to no avail. Mr. Richards catches me in an instant. He is a shark over all he surveys, cutting across the sea of writers in headphones, sipping coffee.

His eyes flick to his watch, then back to me, a smirk playing on his lips—a silent warning that says,Test my patience, and I’ll grind your ambitions into dust.

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