Holt was beside her at once, an expression she’d never seen painted across his face. He was on his knees beside the tub, knuckles white as his hands gripped the edge, the metal groaning beneath his touch. His eyes searched her face as her fingers tightened around her dagger. “They didn’t hurt me,” she said quietly. “This tells me otherwise,” he said, his eyes darkening as he raised a hand to the gash above her eye.
