Mary's POV
I stretched my legs across the sofa, wincing as the movement tugged at my bruised arm. That Elizabeth Shaw had more strength than I'd ever given her credit for. The scratches on my face stung, a constant reminder of my humiliation at the hospital.
My attention snapped to the foyer as the front door opened. George strode in with Pax Powell trailing behind him like some obedient lapdog. Neither spared me a glance as they headed straight for the staircase.
"George," I called out, my voice sharper than intended. "The police came by today."
He paused, one foot on the first step, and turned just enough to look at me over his shoulder. His expression could have frozen hell itself.
"Perhaps I should be asking you that question." His gaze swept over my injured face, his lip curling in disgust.
"Since you've managed to get yourselt mauled like some alley cat."
