And as for Violet”—he lets go of my hand and rips at the buttons of his flight jacket, then tugs his neckline down, exposing the scar on his chest—“if you want to confine her, question her, then it’s me you start with. I bear the responsibility for her and any decision she makes. Remember?” Gravity shifts as I stare at that thin silver line and its precise edges. It’s…gods, it’s the same length as the ones on his back. Xaden isn’t responsible for just the marked ones anymore; he’s responsible for me.
