Zoe's POV
I froze.
It couldn't be. My eyes narrowed, desperate to convince myself it was just exhaustion playing tricks on me. Imaginations rising from the wreckage of my day. Maybe I was just tired that I was hallucinating, seeing ghosts where there were none.
But then he moved—just the smallest tilt of his head—and the security light slid over him. The collar of his dark button-down shirt gaped slightly beneath the edge of his leather jacket, leaving a strip of bare skin just enough to expose the vulnerable line along his neck.
And there it was.
The scar. A short jagged slash etched into his flesh, cutting down from his hairline and disappearing beneath the collar.
It was so real. So glaring.
My breath hitched. My chest locked, as if the sight alone had stolen the air from my lungs. A scar i had carved into my memory ever since I witnessed the most scary day of my life.
