When Summer Shawcross saw the bronze chain tightly clasped around Noah Drexler's right wrist, she held her breath.
Underneath the bronze chain, his already injured wrist was an unrecognizable mess of blood and flesh.
She bit her lip and continued looking at the back of his hand and palm, only to see those too were badly burned and mottled...
At this moment, she finally seemed to understand why his palms had always felt so rough...
Thinking of this, Summer's nose was already filled with a sour sensation.
Just then, the hand she was holding suddenly twitched its fingers.
She sniffed and quickly turned off the light on her phone screen.
Noah Drexler, who was resting beside the couch, slowly opened his eyes and raised his gaze, noticing Summer sitting obediently next to him.
"Did I wake you?" Summer asked softly, somewhat guiltily.
Probably influenced by her earlier emotions, her voice was choked with sobs.
Though not very obvious, it still caused Noah to furrow his brows.
