Take you

Quinn let her vent, not interrupting. Only when her voice grew quiet did he lean in, his fingers grazing the wound on her neck.

His expression darkened as his thumb traced the faint marks left by fangs. "Did he do this?" His voice carried a possessive edge, his gaze locked on the injury.

She scoffed and answered, "Why does it matter?" Her tone was hollow as she added, "I don't even know who he truly is anymore. Everything's a mess."

Quinn, who was focused on the injury, repeated, "I asked if he did this." Bent on knowing who injured her. 

His intensity forced her to meet his eyes. A bitter laugh escaped her lips. "Yes. Are you satisfied now?"

He said nothing. He only stared, his gaze fixated on the wound, unreadable.