“You wouldn’t understand. How could you?” Ylva
Tommy swallowed hard, and though he set his jaw as best he could, he still felt his chin and bottom lip twitch as tears started to well in his eyes. He couldn’t say it aloud. Not at the moment, but he knew of another way he could prove to this fellow Wolf that he understood her grief and anger.
Without speaking, Tommy merely turned away from her and pulled his shirt up so his back was in full view. If the woman knew anything about how the Silver Hand operated, she’d know what the crude W on his shoulder stood for, and why so many scars were scattered across his form. It wouldn’t tell her the whole story, but it would give her a good idea. After all, werebeasts didn’t scar easily.