KNOX'S POV
There is nothing more grating in this world than the laugh of a man who believes he has won.
Rafael Montenegro lies in the snow with blood pouring from his nose and a gash splitting his eyebrow and his expensive coat soaked through with crimson, and he is laughing.
A wild, genuinely terrifying laugh. Deep and delighted and utterly unbothered by the fact that I just rearranged his face with my bare hands.
My knuckles are split to the bone. His blood is cooling on my skin, mixing with mine where the skin tore on his cheekbone.
The snow around us looks like a crime scene — red on white, the kind of contrast that photographs well at murder trials.
And he's f*****g laughing.
"Feel better?" he asks, spitting a mouthful of blood sideways into the snow casually. "Got it out of
