Beneath the Scars

The first thing that met her eyes was a patchwork of mottled skin—pale islands against darker ridges, an ugly map scorched into flesh.

The burns did not stop at his shoulder; angry scars sprawled across his chest, coiled over his ribs, and vanished only when they slipped beneath the waistband of his trousers.

Sloane's voice quavered as she whispered, “How did you end up with so many burn scars?”