Chapter 217 A Happy Man’s Mercy
KNIGHT
“…The video has been wiped off the dark web, s-sir,” Eddie said, his voice shaking as he stood in front of Knight. Knight had already called in his tech guys the moment he heard Eddie’s claim.
Eddie’s heart thudded painfully as the tech team checked the screens. His face was a wreck, both eyes swollen, one completely shut, dried blood and dirt smeared across his clothes but he didn’t care. None of it mattered. All he wanted was to get out of this underground hole that had been his “home” for weeks while he tried to erase every trace of the video.
One of the tech guys finally turned to Knight.
“It’s confirmed. The video is gone. Every mirror. Every private board. Every paid copy. The hashes are dead. The wallets are wiped and blacklisted. It’s buried so deep it’ll never resurface.”
He closed the laptop with a soft click that sounded, to Eddie, exactly like a coffin lid slamming shut.
Eddie almost dropped to his knees. Relief slammed into him so hard his swollen eyes stung with fresh tears. “Thank you… thank you. I did everything you asked. Please… please—”
Knight didn’t bother getting up from the leather chair. He just leaned back against it, watching Eddie like he was something stuck to the bottom of his boot.
He looked bored.
Almost.
A slow, lazy smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, the kind of smile that made grown men piss themselves.
“Good boy,” he murmured. “You scrubbed my wife’s nightmare off the planet. I should pin a medal on what’s left of your chest.”
Eddie dropped to his knees without meaning to. “Please. I have a mother. I have….”
“Shh.” Knight tilted his head. “Amanda is still breathing.”
Eddie’s mouth snapped shut.
Knight pushed away from the wall, slow, unhurried, the movement of a panther who already knows the mouse can’t outrun him. He walked a circle around Eddie, boots echoing on the concrete like a countdown.
“See, the video is dead,” Knight continued, conversational, almost gentle. “But the memory isn’t. Every sick fuck who paid to watch my wife cry still has that memory. And Amanda helped sell it. Bishop is hiding her like the rat he is.” He stopped behind Eddie, leaned down until his breath stirred the blood-crusted hair at Eddie’s nape. “When I find them (and I will), I’m going to take my time. I’m going to make Bishop watch while I peel Amanda apart, piece by piece. Then I’ll start on him. Slowly. You’ll read about it one day and you’ll throw up remembering you ever touched what’s mine.”
Eddie was openly sobbing now, snot and blood mixing on his split lips.
Knight straightened, checked the gleaming watch on his wrist. “But you? You did your job.” A soft laugh. “I’m in a generous mood today, Eddie. My wife is pregnant. Did you know that?” His voice dropped to something reverent and terrifying at the same time. “She’s growing my child right now. So I woke up merciful.”
He stepped back, pulled a Glock from the holster under his jacket with the lazy grace of a man pouring coffee.
Eddie’s eyes fixed on the gun and he started shaking his head frantically. “No, no, please….”
“Here’s the deal,” Knight said, voice almost kind. “You get a ten-second head start. Run. If you make it out that door and past my men without a bullet in you, you’re free. I’ll even throw in a new passport and a plane ticket to whatever shithole will still have you. That’s the mercy of a happy man, Eddie. Take it.”
The room was dead silent. Damon and Leonardo leaned against the far wall, arms folded, faces blank. They knew their boss had never missed a shot in his life. Not once. Not even drunk. Not even blindfolded for fun.
Eddie stared at the gun, then at the steel door thirty feet away. His legs felt like water.
“One,” Knight began counting, soft as a lullaby.
Eddie scrambled up, slipped in his own blood, screamed, and ran.
“Two.”
Bare feet slapping wet concrete, lungs on fire.
“Three.”
He was halfway there, arms pumping, tears flying.
“Four.”
Knight raised the gun one-handed, casual, almost bored.
“Five.”
The first bullet took Eddie’s right calf clean through the meat. He went down hard, shrieking.
“Six.”
Second bullet shattered the left shoulder. Eddie rolled, trying to crawl, leaving a red smear on the floor like a broken snail.
“Seven.”
Knight walked forward, slow, savoring the screams.
“Eight.”
He crouched beside the sobbing wreck, pressed the hot muzzle against Eddie’s trembling right hand, the one that had held the camera.
“Nine.”
Eddie’s scream turned inhuman when the third bullet exploded through the second and third knuckles, pulverizing bone and tendon into useless mush.
Knight leaned close, voice tender.
“You’ll keep the hand,” he whispered against Eddie’s ear. “You’ll even feed yourself one day. But you will never hold a camera again. Every time you try, you’ll remember who you filmed. Every time you flex those fingers and feel the pins, you’ll remember my wife’s tears. That’s your life sentence.”
He stood, holstering the gun, and turned to Damon without looking back.
“Dump him at a public hospital. Let him explain the holes himself.”
Eddie’s broken wails followed Knight all the way up the stairs, but they sounded almost like music.
Because a few miles away, his princess was waiting on a mountain of pillows, one hand curled protectively over the tiny life they’d made.
And for the first time in weeks, Knight smiled a real smile.
Bishop and Amanda still had days left to live.
He was just getting started.
Knight stepped out of the car and walked toward the double doors of the mansion. His boots barely made a sound on the marble as he crossed the threshold, but the second Genesis’s voice floated down the hall, stubborn, pouty, and perfect, every muscle in his body loosened, like someone had just cut invisible chains.
“…I can walk to the toilet myself. I’m pregnant, not dying.”
Revelation’s dry reply came right after. “Doctor said short walks only, and you’ve already done the kitchen-to-couch lap twice. Sit your dramatic ass down before I tie you down.”
A tiny giggle exploded from the living room, high and delighted.
Knight rounded the corner and the whole scene hit him like warm sunlight after weeks in the dark.
Genesis was half-reclined on the massive sectional, swaddled in about seventeen blankets despite the mild weather, cheeks flushed, hair wild, one hand resting protectively over the tiniest curve of her belly. Daisy was perched on the ottoman like a curly-haired gargoyle, legs swinging, clutching a bowl of sliced strawberries she was clearly supposed to be feeding Genesis one at a time (half the strawberries had mysteriously ended up in Daisy’s mouth instead).
Revelation stood over them both like a very tired, very homicidal bodyguard-nurse, arms crossed, one brow arched so high it threatened to merge with her hairline.
Genesis spotted him first. Her whole face lit up, soft, radiant, a little teary the way it had been since the pregnancy test. “You’re home.”
Two words and his soul was on its knees.
Knight crossed the room in four strides, dropped to his haunches in front of the couch, and cupped her face. His thumbs brushed the damp paths under her eyes.
“Hi, princess,” he murmured, voice rough. “Missed you.”
Daisy launched herself at his back with a war-cry of “Uncle Kieeeeeer!” and latched on like a koala. Knight didn’t even flinch; he just reached back with one arm, scooped her up, and settled her on his hip without ever breaking eye contact with Genesis.
Genesis’s smile wobbled. “You were gone all day. I ate three whole smoothies and didn’t throw up once. Be proud of me.”
“I’m always proud of you,” he said, deadly serious. Then, softer, “You’re glowing.”
She ducked her head, shy suddenly, fingers curling around his wrist. “Liar. I look like a puffy marshmallow.”
“My favorite kind.” He leaned in, brushed his lips over hers once, twice, lingering like he was afraid she’d vanish if he stopped touching her. Daisy made a loud gagging noise and buried her face in his shoulder.
Revelation cleared her throat. “Uhhh, not again. Daisy, bedtime in twenty. Genesis, water. Now.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Genesis said distracted as she stared at knight, a shy smon her face.
Revelation rolled her eyes so hard it was audible, but the corner of her mouth twitched as she left.
The second her footsteps faded, Knight shifted Daisy to the couch beside Genesis and knelt fully, pressing his forehead to Genesis’s belly like it was an altar.
“Hi, baby,” he whispered against the soft cotton of her (his) T-shirt. “Daddy’s home. You be good to Mommy today, yeah? No more making her cry.”
Genesis’s fingers slid into his hair, nails scraping gently over his scalp. “He or she was perfect. Just a little flutter. I felt it when Daisy read me the dragon book.”
Knight’s eyes closed, throat working. He stayed there, breathing her in, breathing them in, until Daisy poked his cheek.
“Uncle Kier, are you gonna live on the floor now? Because Genny says the baby is the size of a blueberry and blueberry people don’t need kisses every five seconds.”
Genesis snorted. Knight lifted his head, eyes suspiciously bright, and tickled Daisy’s ribs until she shrieked with laughter and toppled into Genesis’s blanket pile.
“Blueberry people,” he repeated solemnly, “need a million kisses an hour. Minimum. It’s science.”
Daisy scrunched her nose. “You’re weird.”
“Runs in the family.” He scooped Daisy up again, settling her on his lap as he finally sat properly on the couch, pulling Genesis’s feet into his lap too. “Now tell me, little monster, did you guard your Lily properly today?”
“Yep! I made her drink two whole glasses of water and I only let her stand up three times and I sang the baby three songs and Rev said if I was any cuter she’d explode.”
Genesis laughed, the sound watery and perfect. “She really did. My tiny enforcer.”
Knight’s hand found Genesis’s ankle, thumb stroking slow circles, grounding himself in the fact that they were here, safe, whole. His family. His everything.
He looked at Genesis over Daisy’s curly head, voice dropping to that low, velvet register that always made her shiver.
“Video’s gone,” he said simply. “Forever.”
Her breath hitched. The playful light in her eyes dimmed, replaced by something fragile and grateful. She reached for him; he caught her hand instantly, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.
“Eddie?” she asked quietly.
“Alive,” Knight answered, dark promise lacing the word. “Missing a few pieces he won’t ever get back. He’ll remember every second of what he did for the rest of his pathetic life.”
Genesis searched his face, then nodded once, trusting. She always trusted him to carry the ugliness so she never had to.
Daisy, oblivious, yawned and flopped sideways across both their laps like a starfish. “Can the baby have a dragon onesie? With wings?”
Knight’s mouth curved, soft, real, the kind of smile only these two ever saw. “We’ll buy ten. One for every day of the week and three extras for when she pukes on them.”
“She?” Genesis teased.
“Or he,” Knight corrected, leaning over Daisy’s sprawled body to steal another slow, reverent kiss from his wife. “Doesn’t matter. As long as they have your eyes and my aim.”
Genesis laughed into his mouth, fingers threading through his hair. “God help us all.”
Daisy fake-snored dramatically between them, and Knight finally, finally felt the last shard of ice in his chest melt.
Outside, the world was blood and vengeance still waiting.
Inside these walls, there was only this: his people, his once mute wife that had turned him into a complete fool for love.
But back in the hospital, something was about to go very wrong.