Knox stepped into the warehouse like he'd been through this before. The room rustled with movement as Tess hid in the corner, her hands tied behind her back and a sock stuffed in her mouth, held in place with duct tape. He saw her from across the room and yelled, "Get down!" Tess moved into a tight ball, trying to cover her head the best she could. Knox moved with a cold precision. The rival MC ran toward them, guns blazing. Knox pulled out his shotgun and fired, and at the same time every other member of his MC followed suit. Bodies dropped, and the air filled with smoke and dust. The smell of blood hung in the air. When the gunfire stopped, only wailing and boots striking the concrete could be heard. Knox walked toward her, took out his knife, and cut the bonds that held her captive. He then whispered, "You're safe now," as he took the tape off her mouth and removed the sock. Tess fell into his arms and cried. Knox gripped her arms and pulled her away from him, then took a firm hold of her elbow and dragged her along with him. She stumbled, trying to keep up, his boots scraping the ground. Too shocked to fight, she looked up at him and quietly said, "Where are you taking me?" Knox looked down at the woman trembling in his grip and said, "We need to talk. I need to know why you were there and what they wanted with you." He didn't look back at the carnage, just continued to walk to his truck, opened the door, and pushed her inside. The ride was quiet. He didn't start interrogating her in the truck because he wanted to wait until there were witnesses. The room where he planned to question her had video surveillance, and a guard would be outside listening to everything. But there was something about her presence that seemed to unnerve him. All she could hear was their breathing and the roar of the engine as the trees flew by. She wondered what part of hell he was taking her to now. When they arrived at the clubhouse, he didn't say a word but led her down a corridor and opened the door to a small room-a bed, a chair, nothing more. She barely had time to speak before the door shut and the sound of the tumblers engaging left her in silence. For two days she didn't leave the room while he did his research on who she was and what they wanted with her. Knox finally came into the room after dinner on the third day. He stated, "Speak." Only that one word, and she knew what he wanted. Tess looked at the window, then at Knox, and said, "I don't care what happened in that room, to be honest. I was grateful the president was trying to claim me -if he hadn't been, I'd be dead. He saw me riding into town with Washington plates, and I guess it impressed him-a woman riding cross-country alone. I'm sure it wasn't something he had seen before, with this being North Carolina and all." Knox leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching her with those cold eyes that missed nothing. Knox leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching her with those cold eyes that missed nothing. The room was dim, lit only by a single bulb. He didn't sit. He never did-always positioned where he controlled the space, where she had to look up at him. Then he looked her up and down before he said, "Continue." No inflection. Just a command. His jaw tightened slightly as she began-something about needing to get away, about riding, about ending up at the wrong warehouse at the wrong time. He listened without interrupting, his gaze never leaving her face. He tested her story for lies. A woman on a motorcycle, alone, crossing state lines. Unusual. Not impossible. He stepped forward and lit a cigarette. "Why North Carolina?" he asked finally, his voice low and deliberate. She swallowed hard, not wanting to tell a stranger of her troubles, and answered, "I came here to look at property. I'm thinking of buying out here, and riding was my vacation and a test run for when I bring my stuff down." Knox's expression didn't shift. Property. A woman buying land alone in his territory. He flicked his ash into the ashtray and stepped closer. Not threatening, but present. Occupying space... her space. "How much you got?" he asked. His boots echoed against the concrete floor as he moved. He stopped a few feet away as he studied her like she was a problem he hadn't solved yet. A woman riding cross-country, alone, with money to spend on real estate. That took either courage or stupidity. Knox hadn't decided which yet. "You got family coming with you, or you're doing this solo?" His tone was flat, but his attention was clear. Nothing about Knox was casual. She looked directly into his eyes and gave him the honest answer. "For now, just me, but I'm hoping my family will join me one day. But they have their own lives at this point. Hence why I'm looking for something different, something to fill in the empty spaces." Knox nodded once, slow and deliberate. Alone. That changed things in his mind-women with roots were predictable, controllable. Women with nothing to lose were dangerous. He moved to the chair and sat, finally, crossing one leg over the other. The gesture was almost casual, but there was nothing casual about Knox. He was settling in, which meant she was about to answer harder questions. "You got money stashed somewhere, or you carrying it? And don't lie to me-I'll know." His eyes narrowed slightly, waiting. The room felt smaller now, the air heavier. He'd already decided she wasn't a threat he needed to kill. But that didn't mean she was free. Not yet. Not until he understood exactly what she was and what she wanted in his territory. She looked apprehensive. This was her life's work. Did he want access to it? She was unsure but also afraid he might kill her for it anyway, so she just told the truth. "It's in the bank. What little there is, it's just enough to get down here and buy the property, the down payment. I mean, less than 20 thousand." Knox leaned back in the chair, and the wood creaked under his weight. Twenty thousand. Barely enough to breathe in his world, but enough to matter to her. He studied her face-the blonde hair with red streaks, the hazel eyes still holding traces of fear. A woman starting over. Alone. That detail sat with him differently now. "You got a job lined up, or you plan to live off savings while you figure it out?" It wasn't curiosity in his voice. It was inventory. He was cataloging her situation the way he cataloged everything-weaknesses, assets, dependencies. A woman with limited funds in unfamiliar territory is vulnerable. Knox didn't believe in coincidence. He'd found her tied up in the warehouse, and now she had told him she was buying property in his MC's backyard. "Where exactly you looking to buy?" She looked up from her nails, which had apparently become more interesting than meeting his eyes, and said, "I have a job online. I'm a drug and alcohol counselor treating people online in Washington state, better wages than down here... and there are three pieces I'm looking at. One is called Primrose, one at Fire Creek Road, and the last one on Moss Lake." Knox's shoulders became tight, almost imperceptibly. A counselor. Online. He filed that away-useful information. She had income, stability, a reason to stay put. Three properties, all of them scattered across territory he knew intimately. Fire Creek Road bordered rival turf. Primrose sat on neutral ground. But he was only interested in Moss Lake-that land was his. He chuckled. "You're the woman who was asking questions online," he said to himself as he put the pieces together. He stood abruptly, the chair scraping back. "You picked those spots randomly, or someone pointed you toward them?" His voice dropped lower, and that was when she should pay attention. When Knox got quieter, the stakes got higher. He moved toward the door, then stopped, glancing back at her over his shoulder. "You're staying here tonight. Tomorrow I will take you to see the properties myself." Not an offer. A statement of fact. As he stood by the door, hand on the knob, she answered his question. "I found them online and talked with the brokers-two different ones. I'm leaning more toward the Moss Lake one due to the water, and it's more property, but it costs more, and I'm not sure if they will approve me." Knox's expression hardened slightly. Moss Lake. Water access, privacy, distance from the main roads-exactly what he'd choose if he were buying property to hide something or make something. He thought to himself: I guess that's why I bought it in the first place-someplace to build something. But he never did. He stepped back into the room, closing the distance between them. His shadow fell across her face. "Approval won't be a problem," he said flatly, but said nothing more. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed again, studying her with a renewed interest. A woman alone, buying the one piece of land he owned, with just enough money to make it happen but not enough to do it without help. "You're going to need someone local. Someone connected." She looked away, not wanting to show weakness. "Umm, I am? Why, do they not like outsiders?" she asked, not understanding the weight of what she'd already gotten herself into. Whether she liked it or not, she wasn't leaving. He had made that choice for her. Knox's gaze didn't waver. He wasn't used to explaining himself. But something in her naive question made him pause, like she was a child asking why fire burns. "This territory belongs to Nightmare," he said quietly. "Every piece of land, every business, every dollar that moves through here answers to me. You buy property without permission, without understanding how things work... you become a problem." He pushed off the wall and moved closer, his presence filling the small room. "Outsiders get taken advantage of. Robbed. Worse. Moss Lake especially-that land matters. You're going to need protection whether you want it or not." His eyes locked on hers, cold and certain. "Tomorrow we go. You'll see for yourself what I'm talking about." She stood and nodded, looked into his eyes, and said, "Hmm... okay." And she said it as if she was having second thoughts about moving here. So far she'd been kidnapped and almost raped, seen multiple murders, and was now being told she had to have protection to even be here. So she said nothing else except: "Can I get my bike from the warehouse?" As she turned and climbed onto the bed, Knox watched her. She hadn't argued or put up a fight. Just acceptance and a single request. Her bike. He almost respected that-she didn't beg, didn't cry, didn't ask stupid questions about what happened next. "Yeah," he said simply. He moved toward the door, paused at the frame. His hand gripped the doorknob, knuckles scarred and steady. "Your bike's already here. Been here since we brought you in. Locked in the garage behind the club." He didn't add that he had it checked-engine, fuel tank, everything. Habit. Never leave unknowns lying around. He pulled the door shut behind him. The lock clicked into place with finality. Outside, he nodded to one of his men standing guard. "She stays put tonight. Tomorrow, we move."

The morning sun peeked through the windows as she got up and walked towards the bathroom. Knox, on the other hand, hadn't slept. He thought to himself: This woman is a conundrum. Who does what she's doing at her age? It's unheard of. Yet even after her trip had taken such a violent turn, she hadn't given up on her plans. She was afraid, but she was still thinking about her future. He'd watched her sleeping through the security feed more times than he would ever admit... and to his surprise, when she walked out of that shower, hair still dripping water, fresh-faced, no makeup, and no pretense, she was more beautiful than any of the girls around here could ever be. He felt his cock twitch. That hadn't happened in years, not just from looking at someone. Knox stood in the hallway, coffee in hand, when she emerged from the bathroom. He didn't move. Didn't acknowledge the wet hair clinging to her shoulders. His shoulders clenched. Once. That's all. He turned away deliberately, setting the coffee on the small table inside without looking back. The movement was controlled-everything about him was controlled, now more than ever. A cage he'd maintained for decades suddenly feeling too small. "Bike's ready," he said, his voice rougher than before. "We leave in twenty." He didn't wait for a response. He walked toward the door, boots heavy against the floor, needing distance and air and something to break. She looked up at him through her eyelashes and simply nodded and asked for her bag off her bike so she could brush her hair and change. He looked at her and saw why she needed to change. Yesterday's clothes weren't even hers, and he asked, "Did he make you wear that dress we brought you in?" She nodded. Knox started to ask, "Did he?..." He couldn't finish the sentence. Knox's fists clenched at his sides. The warehouse. The rival MC. What they might have done to her before he arrived. His mind didn't finish the sentence because finishing it meant acknowledging what might have happened, and that thought sent a spike of rage through him he hadn't felt in years. He turned back to face her, eyes dark and lethal. "No," he said flatly. That was them. Before. His voice dropped even lower, controlled fury underneath. "You're with me now. You wear what I say. Nothing else." He moved to the door, gripped the frame hard enough his knuckles went white. "Bag's in the garage. Get dressed. In your own clothes. Twenty minutes." He left to go get the bag, and she sighed and thought: They're all the same. He said no, I wear whatever he wants. I guess he thinks he owns me now, like a transfer of ownership. She shook her head and wanted to cry but didn't want to show weakness, so she kept it all inside. Her thoughts and her emotions were the only thing she owned right now, at least until she could get away. Knox returned with her bag a few minutes later, dropping it on the bed without ceremony. He leaned against the doorframe again, watching her move through the room. There was something different in his gaze now-sharper, more focused. He'd caught the shift in her expression when he'd told her what she could wear, seen the way she swallowed hard and looked away. He didn't comment on it. Outside, the morning air was thick and humid. His truck sat idling near the garage, engine rumbling. One of his prospects was washing her bike-a Harley, clean lines, well-maintained. Knox nodded approvingly at the machine, then glanced back at her. "Get in." She looked at her bike longingly as she did as she was told. Her ability to adapt to any situation was one of her strongest attributes... she looked out the windshield. Silence filled the cabin. She didn't speak unless she was spoken to or needed a question answered. No small talk. Not an ounce of her personality was being shared with him, and it was torture. Knox drove without speaking, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on his thigh. The silence didn't bother him usually. He'd built his empire on it. But this silence was different. She was locked down, offering nothing. No personality, no resistance, and no spark. Just compliance. He hated it. He chewed on the side of his lip as he navigated the rural roads toward Moss Lake. The property came into view-trees, water, privacy. Perfect. But his attention kept drifting to her. The way she stared out the window. The rigid set of her shoulders. She'd already decided he was like all the others, already built walls he didn't even know he was attacking. Knox pulled onto the gravel drive and killed the engine. He turned to face her directly. "Talk to me," he said quietly. "Real words. Not answers." She looked bewildered as his statement was so contradictory to that of the personality he'd shown her. "Sir, I don't know what you want me to say..."shit she didn't even know this guy's name but he wanted casual conversation, he must be schizophrenic or smoking crack or just plain fucking nuts, she thought to herself... She moved to open the door. Knox's hand shot out, gripping her wrist before she could open the door. Not hard enough to hurt, just hard enough to hold her there. He released her slowly, deliberately, keeping eye contact. His voice was lower now, more honest. "I don't do casual. I don't do soft. But I also don't do women who check out on me. You want to survive here? You stop thinking about escape and start thinking about what's actually in front of you." He nodded toward the property stretching before them-trees, water, untouched land. "This is yours if you want it. But you don't get it by shutting down. You get it by being real with me." She looked at him and furrowed her brow. Anger swelled up inside of her. "What makes you think I want anything from you or want to stay here now?" she said with a bit more bite than she meant to show him, just a little of the tigress underneath. "I...I...mean I don't know if this...fuck...I...am sorry." She stepped out of the truck and took a deep breath and walked away from him toward the water's edge. As she looked around she started to feel more relaxed. Knox watched her walk away, grinding his teeth. He thought: That bite-that tiger underneath-that's what he needed to see. Real. Not broken compliance, but resistance. Fire. His cock twitched again, and this time he didn't look away. He got out of the truck slowly, boots crunching on the gravel. The water stretched before her, calm and dark. She looked different out here-less trapped, more herself. He kept his distance, standing maybe ten feet away, hands in his jacket pockets. "You weren't apologizing for the words," he said quietly. "You were apologizing for showing me who you actually are." He lit a cigarette, exhaled smoke into the humid air. "Don't do that again. The apologies. I want the tiger. Not the cage." She huffed and said, "Of course you do," and she walked further away from him, looking at the property, at the weeping willows and the flowers. She walked further down a trail, finding a few rolling hills and a flat piece of land with a pump house and an electrical station. No sewage, but it had the essentials she could work with. But did she really want to be here? Maybe she should go to Virginia, she thought to herself. There were four properties there to see as well. Knox followed at a distance, not closing the gap. He watched her move through the property like she was testing it, measuring it against something in her mind. The pump house, the electrical line, the flat land-she was calculating. He saw it in the way her eyes moved, the slight nod when she registered what was possible here. Virginia. He remembered it from her map. She had other possibilities, not just North Carolina. He suspected she was considering them now. He read it in the shift of her weight, the way her gaze drifted toward the horizon like she was already halfway gone. He stepped forward, his presence suddenly impossible to ignore. "You're running," he said flatly. "Again. Different direction this time, but the same instinct." He stopped a few feet away, letting her feel the weight of his attention. "What's in Virginia that's not here?" She turned around slowly to look him dead in the eyes and said, "Freedom of choice." She said it flatly... "I don't do well under someone's thumb. I bite and I'm not housebroken and it gets me in trouble eventually," she answered honestly, something real about herself. Knox stood motionless, smoke curling from the cigarette between his fingers. Freedom of choice. Not housebroken. The tiger showed her teeth, and for the first time since he pulled her from that warehouse, he saw exactly who she was beneath the shock and survival instinct. He smirked and said, "Good." Then, a few moments later, before she could say anything else, he continued, "I don't want housebroken; I want someone who knows her own mind." He took a long drag, exhaled slowly. "But freedom and running aren't the same thing. You keep running, you never build anything. Never own anything. You just exist in other people's spaces." He turned to face her fully, the property sprawling behind them both. "Stay a week. See how it feels when you're not deciding based on fear." She turned away from him, then threw up her hands and asked, "And where am I supposed to stay, locked up in that room with guards in a clubhouse? I'll never live in... or here in my tent like I was meant to? And what do you mean you don't want... what do you want from me?" Knox flicked the cigarette into the water, watched it hiss and die. The question hung between them-what do you want from me-and he didn't answer immediately. Can't, really. Because the answer is complicated, and he'd spent forty-four years avoiding complicated. Besides, he didn't even know what he wanted. "You stay at the clubhouse on your terms", he said finally. "Your own room. No guards. You come and go as you please during the day. At night, you're where I can find you." He stepped closer, closing some of the distance. "What I want is to figure out why a woman like you ended up in my warehouse. Why? You're not broken. Why you keep looking at me like you're deciding if I'm worth the trouble?" His eyes were darker when he looked at her. His possessiveness crept into his voice. "And I want to know if you're staying or running."

She shook her head as she walked away from him just to end this conversation, and then she said, "I came here looking for peace and something I could call mine... I don't want to stay there... I... want peace. I can't get that there with everyone watching me like I'm something to fear or the new flavor of the month. I'm not some young thing that interests most of them in a sexual way, but in their minds I'm some kind of threat, and it's like walking on eggshells." Knox went still. Not the kind of stillness that means nothing-the kind that means everything. A threat. That's what they'd see. Not a woman, not a person. A threat. Because she's older, because she doesn't play the game, because she won't bend without breaking. She's right. He understood that better than most. "I guess I will stay. Take me to a travel trailer rental agency, and we'll bring it back here, and then you can take me back to my bike. You will know where I am at night, and I will get to know the area and the property and see if it is possible." Knox nodded once, sharp and final. The compromise was a good one, and the conversation was over, but something had shifted between them. He'd gotten what he needed-her decision to stay, even if it was wrapped in conditions and distance. She started pacing, then stopped to answer his question. "Alright, you're not staying at the clubhouse then, he said softly. You find a place nearby. I'll make sure it's safe. No one touches your property, no one watches. You work your counseling job, you buy your land, you build what you need to build." He paused, studying her face. "But you don't disappear on me. You check in. You let me know you're breathing." She looked at him, not understanding why he cared about her at all. "Why? What do you want from me? Why do you care, or am I just a threat to you as well? Just tell me no lies if you are planning to use me in some way; I'll never be free here. I would rather not even start." Knox stood motionless on the edge of the water, the weight of her question settled over him like a physical thing. No lies. She's asking for the one thing he's never given anyone-honesty about his own motives, which he barely understood himself. He turned away, hands shoved deep in his pockets. "I don't know yet, he said roughly. You walked into my world at the wrong moment, and instead of being smart, I kept you. That's not strategy. That's something else." He glanced back at her, eyes hard and uncertain in a way that looked foreign on his face. "You're not a threat to me. You're a complication. And I haven't decided if I'm keeping you around because you interest me or because I'm losing my edge." His shoulders straightened as he turned back around and continued. "But I'm not using you. Not for that." Tess moved closer and pulled him towards her to look into his eyes and asked "Then for what?" She turned back around, suddenly feeling vulnerable and not wanting to see his face when he answered. She was starting to feel things she shouldn't. He's very sexy but younger than her, for sure. Knox didn't answer right away. He turned to fully face her, and there was something raw in his expression-something he didn't usually let show. The distance between them felt smaller than it was. "I want you around because when you look at me, you don't see the club president or the monster. You see Adrian. And I haven't had that in so long I forgot what it felt like." He stepped closer, deliberate and slow. "You're not that older than me, and you're real. There's a big difference" His voice dropped lower, rougher. "And yeah, you're sexy as hell. But that's not why I'm asking you to stay". What? She's not sexy. She hasn't been sexy in years. She started laughing, full deep laughter, and she said, "Yeah, right. I'm not sexy either, haven't been that in a long, long time... you're young. Shit, how old are you?" she asked. Knox's expression hardened at the laugh, at the self-deprecation. He didn't find it funny. "Forty-nine, born in July. Fifty in two weeks." He closed the distance between them, his presence suddenly overwhelming in the quiet of the afternoon sun. "And you're wrong about yourself. You move like you know exactly who you are. You don't apologize for your opinions. You rode cross-country alone on a bike because you wanted to. That's sexy as hell, and it has nothing to do with your age." His hand reached out, fingers brushing her chin, tilting her face up toward his. "Stop deciding what you are for other people." She knitted her eyebrows and tried to turn away. She's not self-deprecating; she just doesn't live in denial. She's fifty-five with a tummy, sagging skin, and she doesn't move like she used to. It's just the way it is. She loves who she is, that's different than what she looks like, but he's combining the two, which throws her off. Knox's hand dropped when she turned away. He read the shift-not rejection, but confusion. She loved who she was. That's not the same as believing she was desirable, and the distinction matters to him more than it should. He stepped back, giving her space. "You know you're very easy to read," he chuckled then said. "I'm not combining anything; you're confusing confidence with vanity. You know yourself; that's rare. Most women your age are still performing for men like me." He decided to give in. "Fine. There's a place in town that rents travel trailers. We'll get you set up." He started walking back toward the truck, his movements controlled and purposeful. The property stretched around them, quiet except for the sound of water lapping against the shore. The afternoon sun was bright in the sky, making them feel tired and ready to get cool. When they reached the truck, he paused with his hand on the door handle. "You'll need propane and a water hookup. I'll make sure the utilities are connected by tomorrow." His tone was business-like, but there was an undercurrent of something else. Relief maybe. Or satisfaction that she's not running to Virginia after all. She followed him to the truck and said, "Okay, thank you. There's battery power in the trailer; it'll work for tonight, and I'll need to stock it with food and essentials for the week: bug spray, candles, a lantern, maybe some outdoor chairs and a table, towels, etc." Knox listened without interrupting, his mind already calculating. He pulled out his phone, typed a message to one of his prospects-a kid named Marcus who handles logistics. "We'll stop at the supply store first; you get what you need. I'll cover it." He didn't wait for her to argue about payment as his truck pulled onto the main road, heading toward town. The afternoon sun beat down on the windshield as he drove with one hand, the other resting on the window frame. "One week, he said quietly, eyes fixed on the road ahead. Then we talk about what comes after." It's not a question. It's a timeline. A boundary he'd already drawn. "Very well. How's the phone connection here? I need to work, and I need internet connection. And I can pay for my own stuff. I don't want to owe you," she said plainly. Knox's hands tightened on the wheel. The money thing-he expected that. Independence. She didn't want to be indebted, didn't want strings attached. He respected it, even if it irritated him. "Phone connection's solid out here. Verizon tower about two miles north. Internet's decent if you're not streaming video all day." He took the turn toward town, mind working out the needs list. "Okay, I'll compromise... You pay for your own supplies then. But the trailer rental and utilities come from me. That's not negotiable. You're on Nightmare territory. It's protection, not charity." His eyes flicked to her briefly. "And you don't owe me anything for it...ever." Hmm, she made that sound again and said, "Yeah, you say that now". She didn't trust him, and she was making it clear, and that drove him crazy... why, when she acts like that, everything in his being wants to shut her up with his mouth and body? He asked himself fuck. He just didn't say anything. It took twenty minutes of cold silence to get to the trailer place, and as they arrived, he said, "It's not negotiable. That's final," and got out of the truck. The trailer lot sprawled under the late afternoon heat, rows of white and silver units baking in the sun. Knox strode toward the office without waiting, his presence alone drawing the owner's attention-a thin man in his sixties who recognized trouble when it walked through the door. "Knox," he said carefully. Knox sized him up quickly and said, "I need a trailer. Week rental. Full hookups." The lot owner nodded fast, already moving. He didn't ask questions. Nobody does in this area. While paperwork got handled, Knox leaned against the counter, watching her through the window. She was studying the trailers like she was calculating square footage, water pressure, escape routes. Always measuring. Always ready to run. His chest tightened with something he refused to name. She walked in the door; the cool air hit her like a brick, and she shivered. "Do I get to choose which one?" Her eyes lit up for just a moment while looking at the shiny new trailers. "I live in one back home and have owned fifteen, so I know my way around them." She made sure he understood she wouldn't fuck it up. Knox's expression shifted-barely perceptible, but it was there. Fifteen trailers. She knew what she was doing. That detail mattered more than it should. He nodded at the owner, a silent command. The man gestured toward the lot. "Pick whichever one you want." Knox followed her outside into the heat, watching the way her eyes moved across the units with purpose. No hesitation, no second-guessing. She walked like she owned the place already. His smile came in pieces. Bit by bit. He realized she was not just surviving-she was building. Planning. She came here for peace and land, and she was going to take it whether he helped or not. He lit a cigarette, leaned against his truck bed and asked, "You've lived in one before? Where?" She turned around and looked at him and said with a smile, "I live in one currently back home. It's way older than these and kinda falling apart and small, but it's paid for. She shrugged. It's only a 24-footer with a single tip-out," she said as she went to get inside a 35 ft. 5th wheel with 6 tip-outs. Her eyes lit up when the dealer showed her the hidden office and the full bathtub and washer and dryer in the bedroom. Knox nodded. "We'll take it, from behind her shoulder. It's perfect for you to work in and make a home here." She stopped mid-step, turned to look at him. The dealer watched nervously-he knew Knox's reputation, knew this wasn't a casual transaction. She ran her hand along the kitchen counter, testing the surface. The office space was tucked near the front, perfect for video calls with clients. Natural light from the window. She opened the bathroom door, saw the full tub and washer-dryer combo, and something in her chest loosened. "It's too much", she said quietly, but her eyes betrayed her. She wanted it. Knox stepped closer, his presence filling the small space. "It's what you need. There's a difference." He turned to the dealer without waiting for her response. "Deliver it to Moss Lake property by tomorrow morning. Full setup, and it goes into her name. I'll pay for it, we'll buy it not rent." It's too perfect for her, even if she chose not to stay, it was the least he could do for the trauma he'd caused her, he thought. And his hand went up to her mouth as she tried to protest. Effectively shutting it down.