Page 141 of Hard Bargain

“Of course I’m guessing,” Mercer snapped, his composure cracking wide open. “That’s what happens when someone wipes you out and doesn’t leave you with options.” He laughed, but it broke halfway through. “I don’t have the luxury of certainty anymore. He took that too.”

Knox let out a rough breath. “You picked wrong.”

Mercer’s mouth pulled into a crooked, unstable smile. “Maybe. But I think I chose just fine. And anyway, I didn’t just grab you to hurt him.” He leaned in, voice lowering. “I grabbed you because you’re close enough to know things.”

Knox’s stomach dropped.

“So this is how it goes,” Mercer continued, stepping back enough to look Knox over. “I hurt you—he feels it. And while I’m doing that, you start talking.”

Knox’s pulse was too fast now, too loud in his ears. His hands flexed uselessly against the restraints, metal biting into his wrists. He swallowed hard and forced the panic down before it could take hold.

Mercer had moved to the table, reaching for something.

“You’re not getting anything from me,” Knox said.

Mercer nodded. “Yeah. I figured.” He turned something over in his hand. “I’m not expecting it right away.”

Knox’s stomach turned over.

Mercer came back holding a short rubber baton. A tool designed to hurt, not to kill.

The first strike hit his ribs hard enough to rip the air from his lungs. He folded forward as far as the restraints allowed, a broken sound escaping before he could stop it. The second came before he could breathe again—same spot, the pain stacked fast, spreading under his skin. His chest hitched uselessly as he tried to pull in air, lungs refusing to cooperate.

Another hit followed.

And another.

Knox’s hands clenched behind him, nails digging into his palms as he fought to stay present. His head dropped, then jerked back with the next impact. Each strike landed clean, turning the pain constant, never fading between blows.

Mercer didn’t say a word the entire time. He just watched, like Knox’s reactions mattered more than the hits themselves.

The baton came down again and a helpless sound tore out of him. His shoulders snapped back against the chair, vision going white at the edges. His breathing broke completely—every inhale dragging through his ribs like something sharp and wrong.

When it finally stopped, Knox’s chest heaved. Every inch of him burned, his body trembling through the aftermath, but he forced his head up and met Mercer’s eyes. He would not give him the satisfaction of looking away.

Mercer tilted his head, studying him with curiosity. “Well? Are you ready to talk?”

Knox didn’t answer. His mind was slower now, dragged down by pain, but one thing stayed clear beneath all of it.

Dominic.

If he said anything, it would lead Mercer straight to him. To everything he’d built and fought to protect. Knox swallowed, teeth grinding together. The idea of being the reason Dominic got hurt—or worse—cut through the pain sharper than any of the blows had.

No.

He couldn’t do that. Wouldn’t. Not for anything. Not even to save himself.

Their journey hadn’t started right. He knew that. But somewhere along the way it had stopped being something he got dragged into and became something he chose.

Dominic had pulled him out of the gray, empty place he’d been stuck in for years. Given him something solid: a job, money, a home that was actually his. Dominic had stepped in where no one else ever had. He even took care of his mother when Knox couldn’t do it anymore.

Then there was the rest of it—the part Knox had spent years ignoring, the part his father had made him fear. Dominic hadn’t just accepted it. He’d made Knox believe it was worth accepting too.

He couldn’t pinpoint the moment it had happened, but Dominic had come to mean too much. And Knox wasn’t going to be the one who destroyed him in return.

“I’m not saying anything,” he said.

Mercer’s smile widened, bright and wrong. “Good.”