The pain had dulled to a humming, just beneath his skin, a heated pulse in time to the shivering throb of his heart, but the needle brought it slamming back, as fresh as the first.

The turn of his head wasn't fast enough to completely bury his hoarse cry. The word unintelligible, less language than instinct. A release, when, just for a moment, he wished Max would just let him die.

His fist pounded the sand, fighting the urge - the need - to pull away, to twist out from the stab and pull. Once, twice... but it wasn't enough.

The hand came out, grabbed on to the first thing he could find - Max's ankle - and squeezed.