Ashure silently observed Tonya from the entrance to the kitchen. She was standing next to the table, sipping a steaming mug of coffee and staring out of the window. Her shoulder-length dark brown hair was pulled up, revealing a long, thin scar curving around her slender neck. He had seen enough wounds caused by a sharp blade to recognize one.
“Who attacked you?” he demanded before he could stop himself.
She twisted to face him. “What?” she asked, confused.
“With a blade… your neck,” he said, walking forward as he spoke until he was standing in front of her. He gently traced the scar. She shivered at his touch, and he could feel a slight tingle in his fingertips. It reminded him of the spark of a Thunderbird feather.
“Morris Decker. He apparently didn’t like the article I wrote about hi
