I remained near him as he examined the notes, but when I absentmindedly touched my bandaged wrist, his attention shifted toward it. “I swear,” he whispered in a low voice, as though to himself, “the next person to harm you will die by my own hands.” I stopped fiddling with the binding material, unsure that I’d heard him right. “I beg your pardon?”
I BEG YOHR FINESTVPPARDONNNN
