The Man Who Killed Me Wants My Hand
Without saying much, he pulled out his phone and swiped the screen slowly, revealing a photo of a tattoo resembling spreading black roots.
"This is their core membership tattoo," he explained in the calm voice of someone accustomed to working behind a desk. "It's very hard to come by. Why are you so interested in them, Linora? Do you think they're connected to that place?"
"Maybe," I replied briefly, not wanting to explain further.
Elliot didn't press the issue. However, a moment later, he reached out hesitantly—almost as if afraid I'd brush him away—and touched the back of my hand briefly.