Page 93 of Torin

I look at the claw marks across his ribs. “Those are closed?”

“Bear healing.”

I put the antiseptic aside and wet the cloth.

“Does this hurt?”

“Not much.”

“Liar.”

He smiles. “A little.”

I clean the dried blood from his ribs, then move to his shoulder.

“You know this isn’t necessary.”

“Humor me.”

“I have a feeling you’re going to do whatever you want anyway.”

“You’ve finally noticed.”

I smile and move to the cut on his cheek.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt last night?”

“Didn’t want you worrying about me.”

“Well, next time, tell me.”

“Next time?”

“There’d better not be a next time.”

He smiles.

I finish cleaning the cut and sit back. “So?”

“So what?”

“Who did this to you?”

Before he can answer, footsteps sound in the hallway.

Orson appears in the doorway. “You’re awake.”

“Looks that way,” Torin says.

Orson studies the bruises across Torin’s face. “He didn’t go down easy, huh?”

Torin’s expression changes. “Later, Orson.”

“Who didn’t?” I ask.

Orson looks at me. “Cade.”

My stomach drops.