And I couldn’t for the life of me understand why Knox would.
“I need you to tell me why,” I said. “Even if you think it’ll scare me. If you cared enough about me to get into a fight to protect me, care enough about me to understand that I need to know.”
Because there had to be more to it than Dr. Mercer let on. Like maybe Knox and Doyle had a long rivalry. Their fight couldn’t have been JUST about me. Right?
Knox scrubbed at the stubble on his face like he was working through something heavy.
“Doyle is in here for raping three women,” he said.
My breathing hitched.
“He’s the worst kind of prisoner. No respect for rules. No respect for people.” Knox’s voice was low, controlled, but underneath it simmered something dangerous. “He doesn’t see people as human beings. Everyone’s a means to an end. Last year, he broke another inmate’s arm just to steal his commissary slot. Years ago, he cornered a female officer in the laundry room. She managed to escape, but barely. And those are just the incidents that get reported.”
My stomach turned.
“The inmates were talking about the new nurse starting. But Doyle heard a rumor that you were young and pretty.” Knox’s eyes went cold. Lethal. “That was all he needed to fixate. He threatened you. And by threatened, I mean promised. Because that’s the other thing about Doyle: He will keep trying and tryinguntil he succeeds in whatever twisted bullshit he intends to carry out.”
He paused, and I watched him go perfectly still.
“In that moment,” he continued, “you had a target on your back.”
My mouth went dry. “And beating him up … you thought he’d give up his obsession with me?”
Knox chose his words carefully. I could tell he considered holding back, but we’d come too far. What was the point of half-truths now?
“Doyle is single-minded. By beating him up, I knew he’d have to turn all of his attention on me.” His features sharpened. “He’s like a dog in a fight. Intervene, and he’ll turn on you. And the original target can escape.”
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
Not only had Knox Blackwood intervened to protect me from a violent sociopath who intended to hurt me, but he’d done it, knowing it would put himself in harm’s way. Permanently.
“So, what, he has a vendetta against you now?”
“I can handle Doyle.”
The air left my lungs in a rush. Because, oh my God, Knox’s sacrifice was so much bigger than I’d even realized.
And that wasn’t even all of it.
“That first week,” I continued, my voice steadier now, “after the Doyle fight, you came in with your stitches torn. Then a punch to the mouth that Friday.” I met his gaze. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”
Knox ran a hand down his face. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you and worrying if you were safe. Look what Doyle was planning to do to you. And I was stuck in my cell, useless, with no way to know if you were okay.” He leaned forward, just slightly, and the intensity in his eyes made my breath catch. “Coming to the infirmary wasn’t enough. But it was something.With each injury I needed treated, I got to see with my own eyes that you were okay. That no one had hurt you.”
He hesitated.
“That nothing had touched you.”
The possessiveness in those words should have alarmed me. But Knox wasn’t looking at me like he wanted to own me. He was looking at me like he wanted to stand between me and every bad thing the world had ever thrown my way.
I blinked, processing his confession. “You hurt yourself on purpose just to make sure I was safe?”
He shrugged like it was nothing. Like self-inflicted wounds were a minor inconvenience in his quest to check on me.
“Seemed like a fair trade.”
“A fair trade,” I repeated. “Your own blood. Your own pain. That’s a fair trade?”
Something flickered in his expression. Softened.
