“It's nothing.” “It's not nothing,” he spits out the word like it's spoiled food against his tongue. “These look like fingerprints. Who did this to you?” “You're about to add more if you don't let go,” I whine, tugging my arm even harder. Without warning, he releases his grip, and I go backward, nearly falling onto my pillow. I scowl back at his smug smirk, rubbing the spot dramatically.
