Page 44 of Doomed
I turn back toward the view, giving her space to catch her breath. The wind rustles through the pines behind us, filling the silence between us.
I stop myself after mentioning family. It’s such an automatic thing to say, even though it’s not entirely true. Not in the way most people understand the concept of family, anyway.
“I should clarify,” I say, keeping my eyes on the city below. “When I say family, I mean my brothers. We don’t simply share blood—we share something stronger. We’re bound by the life we share and unwavering loyalty.”
The wind picks up, and I notice Bianca shiver slightly.
“The Blackwoods aren’t some dynasty that’s ruled Ravenwood for generations. We created ourselves.” I turn to face her, curious to see her reaction. “Xavier, Vane, Landon, and I grew up in the system; luckily, Xavier made sure we stayed together. But that didn’t make it any easier.”
I rarely talk about this. Few people in Ravenwood know our origins, which is exactly how we want it to be. A castle built on sand will never weather the storm. We left the sand in our past and built an empire on a solid foundation of family.
“We claimed this spot after Xavier aged out, and he became our legal guardian. The land was abandoned, and we squatted here for months, living in tents while figuring out our first moves in the city.” I gesture toward the overlook. “We made a pact up here, swore that we’d never be at anyone’s mercy again.”
Bianca’s expression has softened.
“I should clarify,” I say, my eyes fixed on the city below. “When I say we created ourselves, I mean we forged who we are despite everything. The blood part was never in question.”
The wind picks up, and I notice Bianca shiver slightly, but her curiosity seems to outweigh her discomfort.
“Our father died before I was born,” I continue, the words feeling strange in my mouth. I can count on one hand the number of people who know this story. Our origin—my origin. “Motorcycle accident. Ironic, considering.” I gesture toward my bike behind us.
Bianca’s expression remains soft as she listens without interruption, but there’s no pity there.
“Our mother...” I pause. “She died giving birth to me. Complications. I never met either of my parents.”
I turn back toward the view, not wanting to see whatever might flash across Bianca’s face now.
“With no other family willing to take us in, we ended up in the system. Xavier was eleven when I was born. He fought like hell to keep us together—Vane, Landon, and me. Threatened to burn down buildings, blackmailed social workers, whatever it took.” A half-smile forms despite the heaviness of the memory. “He’s always been terrifying. I can assure you his ‘terrible twos’—they never went away.”
I run my hand through my hair, feeling exposed. “When Xavier aged out, he somehow convinced the courts to let him be our guardian. We lived in a shit hole apartment at first, but he kept us together no matter the consequences. Fought for us every step of the way.”
I glance at Bianca, feeling a bit over-exposed after everything I’ve just shared. “That’s the thing about family—it’s not always what people think it is. Sometimes it’s built on shared pain instead of joy.”
Bianca’s demeanor has shifted as I spoke. The anger that’s been fueling her is gone. She holds her ground for a moment, not breaking eye contact, then begins taking measured steps to close the distance between us.
“Knox,” she says, her voice gentler than I’ve ever heard it. “I’m sorry about your parents.”
The kindness in her tone catches me off guard. I’m used to her fighting me at every turn, not offering comfort. When she reaches out and places her hand on my arm, I almost flinch. It isn’t angry or sexual. It’s not even pity. It’s compassion, something I barely recognize, having rarely ever seen it offered.
“It’s fine,” I say automatically, the default response I’ve given my entire life. “Can’t miss what you never had, right?”
She doesn’t pull her hand away. “That’s not true. Sometimes what we never had leaves the biggest scars.”
I look down at her hand on my leather jacket, her fingers pale against the black material. A knot forms in my chest that has nothing to do with desire or the game we’ve been playing.
“Why are you telling me all this?” she asks quietly. “You don’t seem like the type to share your childhood trauma on a first date.” A small smile tugs at her lips. “Not that this is a date. I mean, abduction is a felony. Definitely not typicaldatebehavior.”
I shrug, trying to reclaim some of my usual nonchalance. “Maybe I want you to understand me a little better.” I turn to face her fully. “Everyone in Ravenwood sees what we want them to see—the Blackwood brothers, the monsters who run the city. It’s easier that way.”
Her hand drops from my arm, but she doesn’t step back. “And what do you want me to see?”
Her question is like a knife slipping between my ribs. For a second, I almost answer honestly—almost tell her that I want her to see past the mask I wear for everyone else.
Instead, like the asshole I am, I throw my head back and laugh, the sound echoing across the clearing.
“Christ, Bianca, you make it sound like we’re in some romantic chick flick.” I flash her my trademark grin, the one that usually has women falling at my feet. “What do I want you to see? My bedroom, preferably with your clothes in a pile on the floor. Though I’m not opposed to christening this cliff if you’re feeling adventurous.”
The vulnerable moment shatters like glass. I step back, creating distance between us, and spread my arms wide.
