Page 99 of Knuckles & Knives
“Twelve visible, probably more in adjacent rooms. They’re panicking—clearly didn’t expect coordinated assault on multiple fronts.”
“Perfect,” I say, studying the feeds Marcus has provided. “Dom, are you ready for company?”
“Always,” Dom responds from his defensive position. “Though from what I’m seeing on thermal, they’re going to try a full assault on our location rather than strategic extraction.”
“Cross’s pride,” I explain. “He can’t accept that his former student has outmaneuvered him, so he’s going to try to prove his superiority through brute force.”
“His mistake,” Dom says with satisfaction. “I’ve turned this entire building into a maze designed to channel attackers into kill zones. They’ll be fighting on my terms, in my territory, against defenses they can’t predict or counter.”
The beauty of Dom’s defensive preparations becomes apparent when Cross’s first assault team breaches the building’s lower levels. Instead of conventional barricades or obvious fortifications, Dom has created something more subtle and infinitely more deadly—a series of tactical puzzles that force attackers to make choices, each one leading them deeper into carefully constructed traps.
“First team neutralized,” Dom reports with professional satisfaction. “Non-lethal takedowns, as requested. They’re alive but definitely unconscious.”
“Second team?”
“Taking the bait beautifully. Moving toward what they think is our command center but is actually a reinforced room with no exits.”
Through security feeds, I watch Cross’s operatives—trained professionals who should know better—walk directly into Dom’s psychological manipulation. He’s not just defending ourposition; he’s demonstrating that superior tactics triumph over superior numbers every time.
“Raven,” Marcus interrupts, his voice carrying sudden urgency. “Cross is moving. Left the Meridian Tower with six bodyguards, heading toward your location.”
“ETA?”
“Twelve minutes.”
I feel the familiar surge of adrenaline that comes before major combat, but this time it’s different. Not the desperate energy of survival, but the focused intensity of someone who’s chosen the terms of engagement.
“All teams, prepare for endgame,” I command. “Cross is coming to me personally, which means this ends tonight.”
“Raven,” Kieran’s voice carries warning. “He’s not coming alone. Intelligence suggests he’s mobilized every remaining asset for this assault.”
“Good,” I reply, checking my weapons with methodical precision. “I want him to bring everything he has. I want him to commit completely to this attack.”
“Why?” Axel asks, though there’s anticipation in his voice.
“Because when I defeat him using everything he taught me, plus everything I’ve learned since, it won’t just be tactical victory—it’ll be complete psychological destruction. Alexander Cross will know that he created his own perfect enemy.”
The final twelve minutes pass with crystalline clarity. Dom’s defensive maze continues neutralizing assault teams with devastating efficiency. Kieran’s legal pressures force Cross to abandon legitimate assets to focus on personal vengeance. Marcus’s surveillance network tracks every movement, every decision, every mistake Cross makes as desperation overtakes strategic thinking. And Axel’s chaos protocol ensures that even if Cross wins this confrontation, he’ll have nothing left to rule.
When Alexander Cross finally arrives at our building, he comes with twenty-three operatives, military-grade equipment, and the absolute confidence of someone who believes he’s facing a predictable opponent.
What he actually faces is something he never anticipated.
I meet him in the building’s main lobby, not hiding behind defenses or coordinating from safety, but standing in plain sight with my four men flanking me in perfect formation. Cross’s eyes widen slightly as he recognizes the tactical impossibility of what he’s seeing—five people who should be afraid, defensive, scrambling for survival, instead projecting the kind of unified confidence that comes from absolute certainty of victory.
“Raven,” Cross says, his voice carrying the patronizing tone I remember from childhood lessons. “You’ve caused quite a disruption to my operations.”
“I’ve dismantled your empire systematically,” I correct. “Your data centers are destroyed, your financial networks are compromised, your legitimate businesses are under federal investigation, and your remaining operatives are either unconscious or about to be.”
“Impressive,” he acknowledges. “Vincent would be proud of the strategist you’ve become.”
“Vincent would be proud that I’ve learned to value love over power,” I reply. “Something you never understood.”
Cross’s gaze shifts to my four men, taking in Dom’s protective stance, Kieran’s dangerous elegance, Marcus’s analytical focus, and Axel’s barely contained chaos. “Your weakness,” he says dismissively. “Emotional attachments that compromise judgment.”
“My strength,” I counter. “Chosen family that multiplies capability rather than dividing it.”
“We’ll see.”
