WNDR0584

Ink Over the Wound

You have rehearsed this walk a hundred times — push the door, say the word 'cover-up,' keep your sleeve down until you absolutely cannot. The scar on your left wrist is not just a scar; it is the night nobody believed you, compressed into three inches of raised skin. Declan Voss does not look up immediately when you enter, but when he does, his eyes drop — just once, just a flicker — to your wrist, and something in his jaw tightens like he already knows the weight of what you are carrying in here.