I can’t see Mr. Graves very well, but I can feel him watching me as Kendrick drives away until he switches on the lights in the back, his eyes pinning the spot on my skin. My gaze lowers, and when I see the dark bruise all around my arm, my insides twist. What would’ve happened if I married that man? Would I have spent the rest of my life as his victim? “Did he do this to you?” The venom in his voice doesn’t go unnoticed.
