He took a step closer to Riley and bit back a cry, shocked. Blood oozed from cuts on the inside of his forearms, long thin lines in the pale skin. Panic surged through him. “He needs an ambulance!”
“No,” Austin said at his side, voice tired, sad. “He does that sometimes.”
For the first time Luke noticed the web of fine scars running the length of Riley’s slender arms. His heart ached but also stirred with anger, all his protective instincts coming to the forefront.
“Look at his back,” Austin begged.
Luke winced, feeling Austin’s agony as his own. He leaned over Riley and touched the hem of his shirt. “May I?”
Riley made no answer, his face a sleepy mask, heavy lidded, lined with pain. Luke swallowed his tears and gently raised Riley’s shirt. Christ!Perfectly round bruises, the size of fists, ran his back, and his whole right side was purple with ugly contusions. Kicked, maybe…
Fury scorched through Luke, but he shoved it away. Only Riley mattered.