[ It's too late to stop the knife from doing its damage, but hopefully soon enough to stop Michael from pulling back and going for another strike, Neil clamps his hands down on the man's arm. One hand at the wrist, the other at the elbow, his grip is a little weaker because of the wound but not by much.
His voice is practically a snarl, brought on by the pain and the anger felt right then. ] Better listen to him. Drop the knife.