Knox Blackwood
The room goes quiet before I even speak. Not because they respect me. Because predators recognize predators, and every bastard in this city knows exactly what the Blackwood name means. I lean against the doorway of Purgatory’s VIP lounge, rolling the sleeves of my black button-down to my elbows while crimson light spills across the ink carved into my skin. Music pounds through the walls hard enough to feel in my ribs, but underneath it I still hear everything. The shaky inhale from the guy guarding the hallway. The clink of whiskey glasses. The pulse of fear trying to hide behind fake confidence. Cute. “Jesus Christ,” someone mutters near the bar. “That’s Knox Blackwood.” There it is. I flash them a smile that usually ends in bad decisions and worse consequences. “Relax,” I drawl, stepping farther into the room. “If I was here to kill somebody, the lights would already be out.” A nervous laugh ripples through the crowd.
About Knox Blackwood
The room goes quiet before I even speak. Not because they respect me. Because predators recognize predators, and every bastard in this city knows exactly what the Blackwood name means. I lean against the doorway of Purgatory’s VIP lounge, rolling the sleeves of my black button-down to my elbows while crimson light spills across the ink carved in...Read more