Chapter 190 Scarred
Knight frowned, pushing up from the massive ergonomic chair in his office. His voice was sharp, commanding.
“Princess. What happened?”
No answer. Only the sound of her ragged breathing.
And then—another voice. A voice that made every muscle in Knight’s body turn to stone.
“You saw my little surprise, baby girl.”
Keenan.
Knight’s blood ran cold.
“Baby, go back into the studio,” he said quickly, already striding toward the door. He yanked it open just as Damon appeared, heading straight for him.
One look at Knight’s face and Damon knew. Something was very, very wrong.
From the phone in Knight’s hand, Keenan’s voice slithered out again, mocking.
“Is that Knight I hear on the line, my pretty?”
Damon’s jaw clenched, his expression darkening instantly.
Knight’s growl rumbled low, lethal. “Where the fuck are the men who are supposed to be with her?”
His PA, sitting at her desk, jumped at the sheer force of his tone. She looked confused, pale, but didn’t dare speak.
“Baby, leave that place. Go back into the studio,” Knight barked again, punching the elevator button with savage force. Still—no response from Genesis.
The elevator doors slid open. And then finally, her voice broke through the speaker.
“Knight…”
Her tone was fragile, terrified. His reply came rough, low, every syllable edged with violence.
“Princess. Leave. Now. Go back into the studio. Do you hear me?”
Her breath hitched. But instead of obeying him, her soft voice trembled.
“Why are you here?”
Knight froze mid-step, Damon at his back. Her question wasn’t for him. She was talking to Keenan.
Something primal ripped open inside Knight’s chest. His grip on the phone tightened so hard Damon half-expected it to shatter.
Damon snatched his own phone, dialing furiously. “Where the fuck are you?” he snapped the second the line clicked.
“We’re just a few blocks away, grabbing—”
“Now.” Damon’s voice cracked like a whip. “She’s alone with Keenan. If Knight doesn’t kill you, I will.”
The sound of tires screeching bled through the receiver before Damon cut the line. His gaze flicked to Knight, whose fury had gone beyond rage, beyond reason.
Keenan’s voice oozed through the phone again, slow, venomous.
“Your knight can’t save you from me, baby girl. But I’m not here for that…”
Genesis’s breath shuddered through the speaker. Knight’s vision went red.
Then—static. A rustle. A sharp crash.
And silence.
“Genesis?!” Knight roared, but the dead line mocked him.
The world tilted. His pulse thundered, chest splitting open under the force of it. Then the elevator dinged and the doors slid apart. Knight stormed out like a beast unchained, Damon on his heels, already barking orders into comms.
By the time their car screeched into the studio driveway, his men were waiting out front—faces pale, guilt written all over them.
And there—
His princess.
Genesis stood between them, eyes wide, glassy with unshed tears. The moment she saw him, her body trembled.
Knight didn’t walk. He rushed.
“Princess,” he rasped, hands skimming over her arms, her face, her waist, searching for injury. “Did he touch you? Did he—”
Her tears finally broke, spilling fast as she buried herself in his chest. “Knight…”
His arms clamped around her, but then he froze when her small hands tugged at his shirt.
“Princess, what—”
She pushed harder, her fists pulling his black dress shirt up, exposing the ugly scar slashing across his abdomen.
Her tears poured harder as she traced it with shaking fingers. “Knight… you were shot.”
He caught her wrists, jaw tight. His voice was gravel. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing!” she cried, her voice raw. “That’s why you won’t take your clothes off. Why you won’t bathe with me. You’re hurt—and you never told me.”
His heart twisted, seeing his fragile little princess breaking for him. He cupped her face, brushing a thumb over her damp cheek, his voice soft but dark.
“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to worry. I don’t break, Princess. I can’t die… not yet.”
Her lashes trembled. “But you bleed,” she whispered.
The words tore him open. For the first time in years, his armor cracked.
And then, just when he thought she couldn’t surprise him more—her eyes burned. Fierce. Protective.
“He tried to kill you?”
Knight’s pulse slammed. He gripped the back of her neck, grounding himself. “Who told you that, Princess?”
Her lips trembled. “Keenan.”
The name was poison. His hand tightened reflexively, eyes blazing with merciless promise.
“He told you?”
She nodded, clutching his shirt over his scar. “He said it. That he tried to kill you. That he wants… me.”
The fury in Knight’s chest was a living, breathing monster. His forehead pressed to hers, voice rough and low, a vow written in blood.
“Listen to me, Princess. That man will never touch me. He will never touch you. Not while I breathe.”
“But he already tried,” she whispered, broken. “He could’ve taken you from me.”
That shattered him. Not her fear, not even her tears—but the way she said from me.
Knight’s lips brushed her temple, his words a husky vow.
“It doesn’t matter how many times he tries. He’ll never succeed. Do you know why, Princess?”
Her breath quivered. “Why?”
“Because I haven’t given you everything yet. Not all of me. And until I do, death won’t take me. Keenan won’t take me. Nothing will.”
Her wide, tear-bright eyes searched his. He didn’t kiss her. Not yet. He let the weight of his words sink in.
Then, softer, dark and intimate, he whispered,
“But when I do give you everything, Princess… there’ll be nothing left for this world but blood.”
Genesis shivered, torn between fear and something hotter, something that made her cling to him even tighter.
Behind them, Damon cleared his throat sharply, dragging Knight back into the moment.
“We still need to deal with them.”
Knight’s head snapped up. His men were still standing there, pale and sweating, as if waiting for their execution.
His eyes went black with rage. “You left her. You left my wife, alone with him.”
The silence was suffocating. The men bowed their heads, trembling. One started to stammer an excuse, but Knight raised his hand.
“Get out of my sight,” he said, calm—too calm. “Before I decide which one of you I’ll bury first.”
They fled. Damon’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. He knew better than to interfere when Knight was like this.
Knight looked back down at Genesis, brushing a strand of hair from her wet cheek. “Princess…” his voice softened again, a contradiction to the violence still simmering in his body. “Don’t cry for me. Not when I’m still here. Not when I’m not going anywhere.”
Her lips trembled. “I thought..”
“Shh.” His thumb silenced her, pressing gently against her mouth. His stare was fierce, unshakable. “Save your tears for when I make you scream on my cock. I'll kill anyone who dares try to take me from you. Because, You're my peace… I’ll make sure they drown in every single one.”
She nodded, more tears slipping down her eyes, then she raised her hand up.
Knight bent and lifted her effortlessly, one strong arm sliding beneath her thighs, the other anchoring her against his chest. Genesis clung to him, her arms looped around his neck as though afraid to let go.
Her bare feet dangled, her shoes caught loosely in Knight’s free hand, but his grip on her was firm, protective, possessive. Her face pressed against his shoulder, her breath hot and shaky against his skin.
Knight’s expression was hard to read, his jaw set hard as he carried her, each step steady and unshaken, as if daring the world to try and take her from his hold again.
“Mine,” he whispered against her hair, his voice dark, rough, and final, the single word vibrating against her ear.