He stood still, gazing at her departing figure, lost in thought. Four years, though not very long, had been enough for him to clearly remember the origin of every scar on her body. Yet he had not anticipated that, after four years, the person to add the two most severe strokes to her collection of wounds would be himself.
Shane Winchester lifted his leg, walked to her side, and took the cotton ball from her hand, his gaze falling on the wound on her body.
The two wrinkled wounds looked anything but pleasant, and at the moment, mixed with a layer of bloodstain, they appeared even more vicious.
Just as his fingertips were about to touch her wound, Jackson Sully slapped his hand away: "Shane Winchester, is there any point in this?"
Watching the cotton ball fly away, Shane Winchester's gaze settled on the woman in front of him, and he said softly, "Don't provoke me any further."
