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Summary
No. No way.
Murphy watched as the etchings appeared on his knuckles, as if carved with a knife. It hurt. He bit back another groan, trapping his lower lip between his teeth and clamping down hard. He heard the guard behind Abbey gasp and take a few steps back. Heard Kane bark out a worried ‘Blake’. It was over soon enough and all Murphy could do was to stare at his hand.
The letters that now decorated it were an angry red, glaringly so against the paleness of his skin. His heart pounded against his chest as soon as he laid eyes on them. It was not a word. He knew it was a name. Bellamy. What kind of name was that?