Knox had done that. With two words and a grip.
And now all that controlled violence was turning toward me.
He faced me, and this close, I could see the storm in those silver eyes, the way his jaw clenched like he was biting back words. He smelled like prison soap and something darker. Danger maybe. Or salvation.
His gaze dropped to my hands.
I followed it down. The medical tray was quivering. Fine tremors running through my fingers that I couldn’t seem to stop.
I shifted the tray against my hip, trying to hide it, but his eyes had already tracked back to my face. He’d seen. Of course he’d seen. Knox Blackwood apparently saw everything.
“You okay?” The question was soft, as if he understood that damage didn’t always leave visible marks.
Our eyes held. And something shifted in my chest. A flutter. A catch. Like my heart had tripped over itself and didn’t know how to get back up.
His expression changed too. Just slightly. A softening around his eyes. The hard line of his jaw loosening by a fraction. Like he felt it, too, whatever this was. This strange current running between us.
A current that almost felt like …
No.
Absolutely not.
I shut that thought down so fast, it left skid marks. He was an inmate. A murderer. And I was clearly suffering from some kind of adrenaline-induced brain malfunction. Fear and gratitude were getting their wires crossed—that was all. My nervous system couldn’t tell the difference betweenthis man is dangerousandthis man just protected me, so it was firing off signals that meant nothing.
Nothing.
And yet my throat tightened.
Knox Blackwood, the man who’d nearly killed someone yesterday, who had violence tattooed into his very skin, had just stood up when he didn’t have to. Prison politics probably meant that intervening, playing hero for a nurse, would upset other prisoners. If he only cared about himself, he would have stayed seated. Maybe even enjoyed the show.
But he hadn’t.
He’d moved faster than I could track, put himself between me and danger, and now he was looking at me like my answer actually mattered.
“Thank you.” The words rushed out before I could think better of them.
Knox’s eyes never left mine.
The world narrowed to this: a murderer watching me like I was something worth protecting.
“Sorry about that!” The CO’s voice shattered the moment. “Situation in south wing. Hey! Blackwood! Bench. Now!”
Knox didn’t move.
One heartbeat.
Two.
His jaw tightened, like he was fighting some internal battle. Then, slowly, he stepped aside. Gave me room to pass. But he didn’t sit. Not yet. He stayed standing between me and thosemen, those silver eyes tracking me as I walked toward the locked gate.
I should have kept my gaze forward.
Instead, I looked back.
He was still watching. Still standing. And when our eyes met, he gave me the smallest nod. Barely a movement at all, but it seemed to say,I’ve got you.
That’s what it felt like. Which was ridiculous. Impossible. But there it was.
