Daniel remembered clearly—last night, when he had cleaned her up, there had been no wound on her palm. But now…
His brows drew together, doubt flickering in his eyes. Did something happen at her parents' house?
The thought made his jaw tighten. He looked back at Anna, who sat stubbornly silent, and that silence was enough to spark his temper.
"Did something happen at your parents' house?" His tone cut sharp as steel, his hand closing firmly around hers. His grip was unyielding, pressing his words into her skin as much as his voice did.
Anna blinked, startled by the simmering rage in his eyes. Why is he angry? her thoughts stumbled. Is he… worried?
"N-no, nothing happened," she stammered, tugging lightly, but his hold didn't budge.
Daniel's gaze darkened. "I'll ask you one last time, Anna. Tell me how you got hurt." His voice dropped lower, heavier—so sharp it made her flinch.
