I stayed in the car, my fingers clenched around the steering wheel, staring at Nathaniel. The bruises on his face were deep, purple smudges against his pale skin. Blood trickled from a cut above his eyebrow, running in thin streams down his cheek. He looked like hell.
He didn't speak right away, just stood there, staring at me, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths. There was something in his eyes that I couldn't quite place—a mixture of anger, desperation, and something darker that sent a shiver down my spine.
I rolled down the window a crack, just enough to let our voices pass through. "What happened to you?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady, calm, despite the pounding in my chest.
Nathaniel let out a short, humorless laugh. "What do you think happened?" He took another step closer, his gaze intense, almost challenging. "Your precious Ciara happened."
