Page 3 of Retribution
Her aunt’s voice rang in her ears. Aunt Colleen had tried to convince Layla not to marry Michael in the first place. Had her aunt seen something Layla had missed? Or had Layla been too blinded by love and their whirlwind romance to see the monster that lurked beneath?
She supposed none of it mattered now. But damn if she didn’t feel guilty for leaving. She hoped Michael sobered up and got the help he so desperately needed. She also hoped he didn’t align himself with the rebels any more than he already had. At the very least, she prayed he didn’t get caught.
The Kall justice system wasn’t even remotely fair. After watching her best friend, First Daughter Betsy Carson, get condemned to a lifetime of slavery on the Kall homeworld, she understood that better than most people.
If Michael got caught, the Kall wouldn’t take his mental condition into consideration. They wouldn’t show him any leniency.
Please don’t let it come to that.
She exited the apartment and closed the door behind her. Adjusting her grip on the suitcases, she rolled them down the corridor, thankful the elevator was working again. With each step, the grief filling her heart felt heavier.
It was over. It was truly over.
She knew, deep down, that she and Michael would never reconcile. How could they? Even if he got help and he changed, while she might be able to forgive him, she sure as hell couldn’t forget the last year, and she would never be able to trust him again. This realization deepened her guilt, but it didn’t slow her steps. She kept going and she boarded the elevator and she hailed a cab outside.
A short while later, she found herself standing on the doorstep of Ambassador Merokk’s grand house. In the aftermath of the war, she’d become close friends with the former Kall warrior’s wife, Fiona Lockhart.
Taking a deep breath, she rang the bell and waited for a servant to admit her.
Not long after she stepped inside, Fiona ambled down the staircase.
“Oh, I wasn’t expecting you to meet me here. I thought we were supposed to meet at the café this time,” Fiona said with a smile, but a frown soon darkened her features when her gaze landed on the suitcases. “What’s happened? Are you okay?”
Layla hesitated to reply. She needed to be careful and not breathe a word about Michael’s possible ties to the human rebels. Fiona was married to a former Kall warrior who was now an ambassador for goodness’ sake. She didn’t wish to put her friend in an awkward position.
“Um, Michael and I had another fight.” She blinked rapidly, trying to hold back the tears. “His drinking has gotten worse. I-I tried to kick him out, but he wouldn’t leave, so I packed some bags and left.” She’d recently confided in Fiona that they were having marriage troubles, but she hadn’t been completely honest about how bad things had gotten.
Fiona walked close and enveloped Layla in a tight hug. “I’m so sorry. You can stay here as long as you like.” She pulled away from Layla and looked her up and down. “Did he hurt you?” Though Layla had never told Fiona about the time Michael had slapped her, there was no doubt that her friend suspected as much.
“He-he grabbed me and scared me,” Layla admitted. “I tried to tell him to get help and he got mad.” She set down her suitcases, feeling like an orphan of sorts.
Betsy had been sold into slavery on the Kall homeworld, and all of Layla’s other friends and acquaintances had been killed or scattered during the war.
Furthermore, her entire family was gone, even Aunt Colleen, and now her husband—the only family she had left—had gone off the deep end.
She had no one but Fiona.
Two hovering servants rushed forward to grab the suitcases and carry them off, presumably to a guest room upstairs. Compassion shone in Fiona’s blue eyes as she ushered Layla toward one of the many opulent sitting rooms.
“Come with me,” Fiona said. “You look like you could use a drink.”
“I wouldn’t turn down some strong Kall wine,” Layla said, hoping the robust spirits would help calm her nerves.
Though she’d escaped the apartment unscathed, the fright she’d felt during the confrontation with Michael lingered, and her hands were still shaking.
She settled onto a plush sofa as Fiona quickly poured her a glass of Kall wine and then handed it over. She accepted the drink with a brief smile before taking a long sip. Almost immediately, warmth filled her, and her quivering lessened somewhat. Say what you will about the Kall, but nobody made wine quite so deliciously intoxicating, not even the Trutussians, whose main interplanetary export was spirits.
Fiona sat next to Layla and shot her a concerned look. “I suspected things with Michael were a lot worse than you were letting on. I promise you’ll be safe here. Merokk’s security guards won’t allow Michael to come near you.”
“I appreciate your help. You-you’re the only person I could turn to.”I’m so alone. I’ve lost everyone else.She took another large swallow of wine.
“The servants will have a room ready for you soon, I am sure,” Fiona said. “As I said, you are welcome to stay as long as you want.”
“Thank you. Um, how’s your mother?” Layla asked, looking around and wondering if the older woman would make an appearance.
“She’s doing well. She sleeps a lot though and she’s resting right now. I can’t tell you how wonderful it is to have her with me again. Merokk is terribly sweet to her, too. He’s taken to calling her ‘Mother Janie’ and she absolutely loves it.” Fiona smiled.
“I’m glad to hear it. I was so scared for you the day Merokk discovered you weren’t actually the First Daughter,” Layla said, trying not to frown as she thought about Betsy, who’d been betrothed to Merokk—until she ran off and created a crisis in which the US government had scrambled to find a lookalike to replace Betsy without the Kall aliens discovering the switch.
