Denzel’s POV
“Show me the wound you treated with your herbs,” I said, my voice hard with suspicion. “It doesn’t make sense, Venessa. How do you already have an antidote to the poison in our systems? It’s not adding up. Show me the wound now.”
Tears welled in her eyes as her fingers went to the buttons of her blouse. I didn’t understand what she intended to do, but instinctively, I steeled myself. I braced for whatever truth she was about to lay bare. She slipped the blouse from her shoulders, and shock rippled through me when I realized she wasn’t wearing a bra.
Then she turned her back to me.
I sucked in a sharp breath.
“What who did this to you?” I demanded.
The cuts were unmistakable wide, brutal, carved deep into her skin. Only silver whips could leave wounds like that on a wolf.
