Jerrick's grip on her hand tightened, his voice laced with a soothing calm as he tried to pull her back from the edge of panic. "No, no, Jasmine, it's okay," he murmured, his voice like a balm against her growing worry. He smiled softly, that familiar curve of his lips already working its magic to calm her down. "Look for yourself…"
Jasmine's tear-streaked eyes darted up to meet his, the warmth in his gaze steadying her heart. She hesitated before her trembling fingers reached toward the torn fabric of his shirt. Her touch was featherlight as she gently peeled the fabric back, afraid of what she might find. But when she did, her breath hitched.
No blood. No wound.
But what she saw instead stopped her heart. In the dim glow of the light, there was a dark mark on his shoulder—strange and yet somehow familiar. She stood on her tiptoes, drawn closer, her eyes narrowing in confusion.
