KNOX’S POV
The words land in my chest, and I feel the bruise of them immediately.
Twenty years of unwavering loyalty.
Twenty years of placing himself between me and danger by any means necessary, through near-deaths and battles and the kind of thankless service that never makes it into the history books.
My jaw tightens. I force myself to feel nothing. Not an inch of mercy. Not a drip of care.
Because this is the man who drugged my coffee and killed my wife and murdered sixty-three people and documented me like a lab animal and lied to my face for a decade.
But he is also the man who committed his life to my family’s legacy.
The man I considered my brother long before any of this, back when life was simpler and the worst days could be solved with a bottle of beer after brutal tra
