Theo squeezes my arms to guide me to the ground, a tiny whine escaping my mouth. He instantly lets me go, eyes honing in on my arms. Reaching forward, he lifts the sleeves of my gray shirt up, spotting the bruises. "Who the fuck did this?" he asks, fingers skirting around the marks. "Guards and police officers," I answer in a standoffish tone. "You know what they are like." His eyes narrow on the bruises for a second before he lowers the material back down. "Point them out to me. I'll deal with them." "No," I quickly say. "It's fine, really." "It's not fucking fine," Theo growls.
