Page 7 of Owned By Knuckles
She takes a breath. "Okay. Do it."
I prep the syringe, my hands steady despite the fact that I haven't done this in months. Muscle memory takes over. Findthe wound. Calculate how much anesthetic she needs. Inject slowly to minimize pain.
She makes a sound when the needle goes in. Half gasp, half whimper, and her hand shoots out to grab my shoulder. Her grip is tight enough to hurt.
"Sorry," she breathes. "Sorry, I—"
"You're fine. Squeeze as hard as you need to."
She doesn't let go while I work. I can feel her nails digging in through my shirt, can feel the way she's trembling with the effort of holding still. But she doesn't cry out again. Just breathes through it while I inject the anesthetic and wait for it to take effect.
"Tell me something," I say, trying to distract her while we wait.
"Like what?"
"I don't know. Anything. Favorite color. Best vacation. Why you decided to run in the most impractical outfit possible."
That gets me a broken laugh. "I didn't exactly plan the outfit."
"No?"
"I was supposed to get married four hours ago." Her voice is flat. "Stood in the bridal suite, looked at myself in the mirror, and realized I couldn't do it."
"So, you ran."
"So, I ran."
I thread the needle, testing the anesthetic. She doesn't react when I touch the wound. Good. "Groom gonna come looking for you?"
"Probably. He doesn't like it when I do things he doesn't approve of."
The way she says it makes my hands still. "He hurt you?"
She doesn't answer right away. When she does, her voice is barely above a whisper. "Yeah."
One word. That's all it takes. One word and suddenly I understand everything. The running, the fear, the way she flinched when I first touched her, the desperate *no hospitals* when she's clearly hurt.
And that violent thing that lives in my chest wakes up fully, stretching and snarling and hungry.
"He know you're here?" I ask, keeping my voice level.
"I don't think so. I've been walking for hours. Haven't really been paying attention to where I'm going."
"He has your phone number?"
"He's been calling. I turned it off."
"Good. Keep it off." I start stitching. "He know anyone in Vegas? Anyone who might help him find you?"
"I don't know. Maybe. Derek has a lot of connections."
Derek. Now I have a name for the man I'm going to kill if he walks through that door.
"What about family? They looking for you too?"
Another long pause. "Yeah. They want me to go back."
"They know he hurts you?"
