Page 29 of Knuckles & Knives
“No.” His honesty is both brutal and beautiful. “This is pure selfishness. I’ve wanted to do this since the first time I saw you walk into that coffee shop on Fifth Street, wearing that ridiculous oversized sweater and looking like you could take on the world with nothing but attitude and determination.”
“You remember what I was wearing?”
“I remember everything about that day. It was October fifteenth, 2019. You ordered a large coffee, black with one sugar, and a blueberry muffin you didn’t eat. You sat by the window for forty-three minutes, reading a paperback copy of The Maltese Falcon, and you smiled exactly once, when the barista made a joke about the weather.”
The level of detail is overwhelming, touching, and more than a little frightening. “You’ve been watching me that long?”
“Longer.” He brushes a strand of hair away from my face with gentle fingers. “I was at your father’s funeral, Raven. I saw you standing there in that black dress that was too big for you, looking lost and angry and so young it broke something inside me. I made two promises that day—one to your father’s memory and one to myself.”
“What promise did you make to yourself?” I ask, curious despite myself.
“That I would make sure Vincent Blackwood’s daughter got the chance to become the woman she was meant to be.” His thumb traces my jaw, reverent and possessive. “Even if it meant loving her from the shadows for the rest of my life.”
The weight of his devotion is staggering, beautiful, and terrifying. Five years of silent protection. Five years of careful manipulation from afar to keep me safe and give me opportunities I never knew I was receiving. Five years of watching and wanting and never taking.
“Marcus—”
“I know what you’re going to say. That this is complicated, that there are other factors to consider, that Dom and Kieran and Axel all have claims on your attention.” He leans back slightly, but his hands remain on my face, holding me steady. “I know I’m not the first to kiss you this week, and I’m not asking you to choose right now, Raven. I’m just asking you to know the truth. All of it.”
“What truth?”
“Your father’s empire isn’t gone despite what others might say. It’s been waiting for you to claim it. You have resources and allies you never knew existed. The war everyone thinks is coming has already started, and you’re not just a player in it. You’re the prize everyone’s fighting for.”
“I’m the prize? What do you mean?”
“Control of the Blackwood legacy doesn’t just mean money and territory, Raven. It means legitimacy. Respect. Power that goes far beyond anything the Sterling Syndicate or any other organization currently wields. Whoever wins your allegiance doesn’t just get access to your father’s empire. They get to reshape the entire criminal landscape of this city.”
“My father wanted out…”
“He wanted to give you an out if that is what you want… or…” He holds up his hand. “You can do what you wish. You can forge your own path, build your own empire, construct it from your father’s ashes.”
“And you think that’s what Dom and Kieran and Axel want? The empire?”
“I think they want you. The empire is just what comes with you.” His smile is almost sad. “The difference is I wanted you before I knew what you represented. I fell in love with a girl in an oversized sweater reading detective novels, not the heir to a criminal dynasty.”
The distinction shouldn’t matter, but it does. In a world where everyone seems to have ulterior motives, where every kiss and every touch might be motivated by strategy rather than desire, Marcus’s confession feels like solid ground in shifting sand.
But I don’t know if the girl in that sweater exists anymore, and I don’t know if Marcus could still love the woman forged from fire in her place.
“What happens now?” I whisper.
“Now you have all the information you need to make informed decisions.” He steps back, giving me space to breathe, to think. “The accounts I’ve shown you represent approximately forty-seven million dollars in liquid assets. There are additional holdings in real estate, businesses, and investments that bring the total value to just over a hundred and thirty million.”
The numbers are staggering. I knew my father was wealthy, but this level of fortune changes everything—every assumption about what I can do, who I can trust, what’s at stake in the games everyone’s playing.
“There’s more,” Marcus continues, moving back to his desk and pulling out a thick file. “Properties your father owned that aren’t listed in any public records. Safe houses, weapons caches, information networks… Everything you’d need to rebuild the Blackwood organization from the ground up if that is what you want.”
“Why are you telling me this now?”
“Because the window of opportunity is closing. Your father’s enemies think his empire died with him, but eventually, someone’s going to start asking questions about the missing assets, especially now that you have reemerged from the dead, and when they do, being Vincent Blackwood’s daughter will change from being an advantage to being a death sentence.”
For five years, I’ve thought of myself as Vincent Blackwood’s daughter seeking revenge for his murder. Now I discover I’m also the heir to a criminal empire that could reshape the balance of power in the city’s underworld.
It’s too much. Too fast. I came here for answers, not a crown.
“What would my father want me to do?”
“Your father wanted you to have choices,” Marcus says simply. “He spent the last months of his life making sure you’d have the resources to build whatever life you wanted—whetherthat meant reclaiming his throne or walking away from this world entirely.”
