Page 17 of Owned By Knuckles
"I can't just—"
"Yes, you can. They don't get to have access to you anymore. Not after what they did. Not after they chose him over you." I take the phone from her shaking hands and start going through her contacts. "Tell me who to block."
She lists names. I block them all. Derek. Her mother. Her sisters. The wedding planner. Friends who were really his friends.
When I'm done, her contact list is half the size it was.
"There," I say, handing it back. "Now they can scream into the void all they want. You don't have to hear it."
She looks at the phone, then at me. "Thank you."
"Get some rest, Savannah. Tomorrow we meet with Pope and figure out next steps."
"Okay." She pauses. "Ryan?"
It's the first time she's used my real name. It does something to me, hearing it in her voice.
"Yeah?"
"Thank you. For everything. For being kind. For not asking anything in return. For just... being here."
I should leave it at that. Should walk out and go to my room and get some fucking distance.
But I find myself saying, "You don't have to thank me for basic human decency."
"When you've gone without it for as long as I have, yes, you do."
I leave before I can do something stupid like tell her she deserves better than basic human decency. That she deserves everything good in the world and I'd burn down anyone who tries to take it from her.
Because that would be crossing a line I have no business crossing.
She's under club protection. Which means she's off limits.
I just need to keep reminding myself of that.
Chapter 5 - Savannah
I stand in the middle of the hotel room for a long time after he leaves, still holding my phone, still processing the fact that he just blocked half my contacts without hesitation.
Like it was easy. Like I deserved to have that boundary.
Derek would have lost his mind if I'd suggested blocking anyone. He needed access to my phone, my messages, my entire life. Said it was because he loved me, because he wanted to make sure I was safe, because couples shouldn't have secrets.
But really it was because he needed control. Needed to know who I was talking to, what I was saying, whether anyone was putting "ideas" in my head.
Ideas like *you deserve better than this* or *this isn't normal* or *he's going to kill you if you stay*.
I finally put the phone down and look through the bags Ghost brought. There are jeans, actual jeans that look like they might fit. A few t-shirts in different sizes. Underwear and bras still in the packages. Socks. A pair of sneakers that are probably a half size too big but close enough.
Someone went to actual stores and bought me actual clothes. At midnight. Because a biker named Knuckles asked them to.
I don't understand any of this.
I don't understand why he's helping me. Don't understand why he carried me like I weighed nothing when Derek could barely manage a hug without complaining about his back. Don't understand why he stitched my feet and brought me food and blocked my contacts and promised I was safe.
Don't understand why I believe him.
I should be terrified. Should be questioning every decision that led me to this moment. Should be wondering if I traded one dangerous situation for another.
