Chapter 46 Out of the Ashes

Chapter 46 Out of the Ashes
"If you keep squeezing my hand like that, you're going to break it," I said, my voice barely a whisper against the blast of the car heater.
Knox didn't loosen his grip. His knuckles stayed white on the steering wheel, his right hand locking mine flat against the center console. He kept his eyes fixed on the dark, snowy highway, his chest rising and falling in heavy, jagged breaths.
"I'm making sure you're still sitting there," he said flatly.
My arms felt like lead weights, the frantic rush through the registry lobby finally catching up to my muscles. My shoulder blades ached from carrying the heavy canvas backpack, and my boots were still soaked through from the slush outside the office. Every bump in the road sent a dull ache through my spine. I stared at the dashboard, watching the small green light flicker against the plastic frame.
The heat coming from the vents smelled like old dust and burnt oil, but it did nothing to stop the shivering that started in my chest and worked its way down to my fingers. Outside, the snow was coming down faster now, big heavy flakes hitting the windshield and melting into gray streaks before the wipers shoved them aside with a rhythmic scrape.
"The system said authenticated," I said, watching the yellow streetlights flash across his face. "That means it's done. Right?"
"It's done," Knox said, his voice rough. "The university lawyers can call the registry office until their phones melt tomorrow. They can't change the timestamp. Your dad's name is on the master file."
He turned the wheel sharp to the left, the tires crunching loudly over unplowed snow as he pulled into the gravel lot of his duplex. The old tires skidded slightly before gripping the ice, throwing a spray of gravel against the undercarriage of the car with a sharp metallic rattle. He killed the engine, plunging the inside of the car into total darkness. The sudden quiet was so loud it made my ears ring. The headlights cut out, leaving only the dull gray glow of the snow-covered trees outside to light the cabin.
Knox sat back, his massive shoulders dropping as he exhaled a long breath. The hard, dangerous stare he had carried all night finally disappeared. He rubbed his face with his free hand, his palms making a rough, scraping sound against his dark stubble. He looked tired. Not just ordinary tired, but the kind of bone-deep exhaustion that comes from fighting a war for three years straight.
"Lila."
He reached across the dark, his large hands framing my jaw. His palms were burning hot against my freezing cheeks. He pulled me forward until his forehead hit mine, his quick breaths brushing my lips. The smell of cold air, winter wind, and old leather surrounded us, trapping us in the small cabin. His thumbs moved in slow, small circles against my skin, wiping away the dried salt of old tears I hadn't even realized were there.
"You're clear," he whispered. "He can't touch the files anymore. Not after what Mason did."
The tight knot in my throat broke. I slid over the plastic console, my knee catching on the emergency brake before I buried my face into his heavy jacket. Knox’s arms clamped around my waist instantly, lifting me completely onto his lap. He held me so tight against his chest that I could feel every heavy, fast thud of his heart against my ribs.
My fingers dug into the fabric of his coat, holding onto him like he was the only solid thing left in the world. There were no crowds to trick anymore, no campus rumors to outrun, and no more fake rules to follow. The silence inside the car felt heavy and real. I let my head rest on his shoulder, closing my eyes as the smell of his laundry detergent and clean sweat finally made the shaking in my hands stop. For the first time in months, my lungs felt like they could actually hold air.
"Let's get out of the storm," Knox buried his face in my neck, his lips rough and warm against my skin.
My phone buzzed in my coat pocket.
The vibration was loud and sharp against my hip. Knox froze, his mouth resting just below my ear as the screen lit up the dark car with a bright white glare. The light threw sharp shadows across the dashboard and caught the edge of his jawline.
I pulled the phone out, my fingers trembling so badly the sleek glass almost slipped from my palm. It wasn't a text from Mason, and it wasn't a call from Coach Foley.
It was an unknown number, but the text message on the screen made my blood turn back to ice.
The registry office only protects the digital copy, Lila. I still have your father's original notebook under the floorboards. Come back alone, or I burn it.
I stared at the words until they burned into my retinas. The white light of the screen reflected in the dark window of the passenger door. The heat in the car suddenly felt suffocating, choking the breath right back out of my throat. My thumb hovered over the power button, my instincts screaming at me to hide it, to turn the phone off, to pretend I had never seen the message.
"Lila?" Knox’s voice dropped, the soft warmth from a second ago vanishing instantly. His grip on my waist tightened, his muscles locking up like iron bands. "Who is it?"
"Nobody," I lied, the word tasting like copper in my mouth. I tried to slide my hand back into my pocket, but Knox was faster.
His large hand came down over mine, his fingers wrapping around my wrist and pulling the phone up between our faces. His blue eyes scanned the black text on the white screen. I watched his jaw clench, the skin over his cheekbones turning white as he read the message once, then twice.
"He's at the house," Knox said, his voice dropping into that quiet, flat tone that usually meant someone was about to get hurt. He didn't look at me. He just stared at the phone, his breathing slowing down until it was almost completely silent.
"Knox, don't," I said, catching the front of his jacket with both hands. "Look at me. The digital files are safe. The university can't steal the credit anymore. We won that part."
"He has the notebook, Lila," Knox said, finally looking up. His eyes were dark, the pupils completely blown out in the dim light of the car. "The one with your dad's handwritten code. The one he used to teach you before he got sick. You told me yourself that was the only thing you had left of his."
"I don't care about the paper," I lied, my voice cracking on the last word. A tear spilled over my cheek, hot and fast. "I care about you. If we go back there, Richard isn't going to just talk. He has nothing left to lose now. Mason took his career, and we took his money. He's cornered."
Knox didn't answer. He reached around me, his long arm stretching across the dashboard to grab the keys. He jammed them back into the ignition. The old starter gave that same metallic scream before the engine roared back to life, the vibrations rattling the floorboards under my boots.
"Knox, please," I begged, grabbing his right hand before he could throw the car into reverse. "Look at the snow. Look at the road. Just wait until morning. We can call the police."
"The police won't stop a fire, Lila," Knox said. He didn't look mad; he looked entirely empty, his face like a stone carving in the dashboard light. He leaned over and shoved the passenger door open, the freezing wind rushing into the car and hitting my face like loose glass. "Get out. Go inside the apartment and lock the door."
"I'm not leaving you," I said, my fingers digging into his sleeve.
"Get out of the car, Lila."
"No." I pulled my legs up, locking my boots against the plastic molding of the passenger side. "If you're going back to that cellar, I'm going with you. You're not doing this alone."
Knox stared at me for three long seconds. The cold wind howled through the open door, blowing snowflakes onto the dark fabric of his jacket where they turned to tiny drops of water. He didn't argue. He reached over, slammed the passenger door shut, and grabbed the gear shift.
He slammed the car into reverse. The tires spun against the slushy gravel, the backend of the car fish-tailing wildly before the rubber caught the road and launched us back toward the highway.
The headlights cut through the heavy, blinding sheets of white as we tore back toward the estate. Neither of us spoke. The only sound was the violent roar of the heater and the steady, fast clicking of the turn signal as Knox blew through a blinking red light. My phone sat face-up in the cup holder, its screen still throwing that eerie white glow onto our faces.
When the car finally skidded into the driveway of the Shaw house, the entire building was pitch black. No porch lights. No lights in the windows. It looked like an abandoned tomb sitting in the snow.
Knox cut the engine but left the key in the accessory position so the headlights stayed on, casting two long, bright beams across the snowy front lawn. He reached into the footwell, his fingers wrapping around the cold iron of the tire tool he had thrown there earlier.
"Stay in the car," Knox said, his voice entirely flat. His hand was already on the door handle.
"I told you I'm coming with you," I said, my hand closing over the passenger door latch.
Knox didn't turn his head to look at me. He just stared straight through the windshield at the dark front door of the house.
"If you open that door, Lila, I will lock you out of this car and leave you in the driveway," he said, his voice dropping into a dangerous, icy whisper. "Do you understand me?"
"You can't do this alone, Knox," I argued, my voice rising as my heart hammered against my ribs. "He wants me, not you."
Knox finally snapped his head toward me, his grip tightening on the iron tool until his knuckles turned purple.
"He wants a piece of paper, Lila," Knox hissed, his eyes burning in the dark. "And if I have to break every bone in his body to keep him from burning it, I will. Now sit down, shut up, and keep your hand off that door."