He grasps my wrist gently, bringing it up for him to survey the bruises wrapped around it. Darkness clouds his features, but somehow I know he’s not angry at me. “This looks worse than the bruises you got from that idiot yesterday. Are we blaming the iron for this, or was Russo rough?” I consider lying, but I think he’d know if anything but the truth came from my mouth. “He wanted to hurt me.” The words cause a shiver to rush through my body as they leave my mouth.
