“You really don’t want to know.” He’s tense but doesn’t move away from my touch. “I do.” They don’t look accidental. Someone hurt him deliberately, maliciously, and it makes me want to hunt the person down and do the same to them. His jaw flexes as he looks over his shoulder, and his eyes meet mine. I bite my lip, knowing this moment can go either way. He can shut me out like always or he can actually let me in. “There’s a lot of them,” I murmur, dragging my fingers down his spine. “A hundred and seven.” He looks away. That number makes my stomach lurch, and then my hand pauses. A hundred and
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