Chapter 167 A4

• “Can you stand?” Jack asked gently.
• Emy nodded, not trusting his voice. He pushed himself up, his body aching in a dozen unknown places. He felt exposed under the bright lights because every mark and tremor was visible.
• Jack watched him for a moment, then reached for the hem of his own ruined shirt. He pulled it over his head in one motion and dropped it to the floor. His chest was broad, defined, dusted with blonde hair. There were scratches there, and faint red lines from Emy’s nails.