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Trent calms, and Blake releases him. His eyes move to the desk.
Oh, God—the letter!Ji-hoon forced me to say terrible things in it about Trent…
And now he’s reading it…
I bury my face in my hands, ashamed. Trent is going to hate me.
How had I let it come to this? I let Ji-hoon treat me like garbage, but that isn’t even the worst of it. The boys saw everything. What kind of mother allows their children to see such a shameful existence?
Arms wrap around me. I bring my head up and see Trent looking down at me. There’s no sign of anger or disappointment. Just softness.
Even with betrayal, he treats me with kindness.
“So…sorry,” I plead.
“You-o-k?”
I bury my head in his chest and sob.
Everything is moving so fast. I’m dizzy. Whether it be from all the emotions or lack of air, I’m not sure. All I know is that I’m confused and so overwhelmed.
More people enter the room. A couple of men with guns and Selina.
“What-tha-ell-happened?” she says, her voice inflamed.
Cole shifts his stance, saying words that are too fast for me to understand.
“Jesus-Christ!” Selina yells, then she goes over and kicks Ji-hoon.
Cole is talking to Blake, and I recognize the word ‘lab’.
I know what this means. They need him more than they need me.
Selina thrusts a glass in my face.
“You-look-pale.”
I try to smile, to give some indication of gratitude, but I cannot seem to gather my wits.
How did they know? Why is Trent here? I haven’t seen him since I arrived at the Keep, weeks ago.
More men come, angry and full of curses. For a moment, I’m terrified, until I realize that all of their anger is directed at Ji-hoon.
My husband is curled in a ball, sobbing, and if I’m not mistaken, he’s wet himself. Seeing him like this, so weak and helpless, is…sad. Perhaps I should be happy, as what he’s done to me is being revisited upon him, but everything about the man is pathetic. His rage. His jealousy. His small, narrow mind.
This whole time, he hated me because he needed me. My family name boosted his career, which was a slight he simply could not live with.
The apocalypse freed him. Until I showed up at the Keep.
The irony is that history had repeated itself. When I arrived here, he was moved from his tiny dorm into this apartment. I gave him a status in the Keep that he hadn’t had otherwise, which must have incited his anger further.
When I finally feel somewhat stable, I ask Trent, “What…doing here?”
“Came-for-you,” he says, tapping my chest.
“Why?”
His face relaxes. It’s expressionless, like he’s deep in thought.
