Redemption Hills: The Complete Collection

15. Trent

FIFTEEN

TRENT

LOS ANGELES – EIGHTEEN YEARS AGO

“Cutter, let him go. You can’t do this.”

His mother raced out behind them where his dad dragged him by the neck of the shirt toward the truck parked at the curb. The blood in Trent’s veins pounded so hard. He felt it in his ears. In his chest. His stomach sick.

It’d been so long since his dad had come there, he’d thought maybe he was gone for good. No longer comin’ around makin’ his mom cry. His mom who said he wasn’t welcome. That she didn’t want nothin’ to do with his bad, bad life.

His dad spun around, in her face, growling the words. “The fuck, I can’t. Know your place, woman.”

Trent’s mom blanched and turned red all at the same time, her worry wrapping him in dread, her green eyes washing over him like she would be willing to fight to get him freed.

“My place? I never agreed to any of that nonsense, and I sure as hell am not gonna stand by and let you drag my son into that mess.”

Trent’s chest felt funny. Like it was buzzing and full and going to explode. Like his hands were tingling with anger.

His dad shook him. “About time this boy learned some respect. All of ’em. Get where they’re goin’. Who they are. We start with him.”

Trent flailed and tried to break away. “Let me go. I don’t wanna go nowhere with you.”

His dad smacked him on the back of the head.

His mom raged, pushed forward. “Don’t you dare lay a hand on him.”

Trent’s dad had his mom by the throat.

Trent wanted to weep.

To fight.

His throat locked up and moisture filled his eyes.

But he couldn’t do anything but stand there frozen while the monster hissed, “I’ll do whatever the fuck I want. Should have ended you long ago, bitch. Think you can talk to me like that? Get a say in what I do with my boys? They might live here, but they belong to me. You got it? You’re lucky I let you breathe.”

She whimpered and scratched at his hand.

He squeezed tight. “Do you understand?”

Her head jerked in a spastic nod.

As much as he fought it, a tear got free of Trent’s eye. His mom saw it, flinched, stumbled back when his dad shoved her away. Then he was shoving Trent into the front seat of the truck and slamming the door shut.

Trent slumped down. A nasty feeling boiled in his belly as he looked out the side window at his mom who stood in the middle of the yard while his dad rounded the front of the truck.

Horror and shame on her face. He pressed his fingertips to the glass.

Tears streamed down her eyes.

He was still looking at her when he was smacked again from out of nowhere.

Trent jolted forward, warily peeking over at his dad who looked at him with hate.

With the same kind of hate Trent felt deep in his soul.

The ugly, ugly kind.

The kind he thought might turn black.

“No son of mine is gonna be a pussy,” his dad snarled as he turned the ignition and pulled out onto the street. “Twelve damned years old. Bad enough your pathetic twin is always sucking on that air like he can’t breathe on his own. Your momma made you all spineless. Weak. I’ll knock those tears right outta you, boy. You wanna get cut? Dumped in a canal? You show weakness in this world, and you’re done. Now man the fuck up because you have big shoes to fill. One day when I’m gone, you’ll sit as President of the Iron Owls, and it’s about damned time you start to learn what it’s gonna mean to take that position.”

Trent sank deeper into the seat as if he could disappear.

He didn’t want nothin’ to do with the man his mom feared.

The one who left her eyes blued and her mouth bloodied.

But how could he get away from a man like that?

Footsteps treaded quietly into his room. Trent buried himself deeper under the covers. Like he could hide. Pretend he didn’t exist. That what he’d seen never happened.

It was just a bad dream.

The edge of his mattress dipped, and that tender voice filled the air. His mom was singing her favorite song. The one about forgiveness when you’d done bad things.

But he was pretty sure what his father had forced him to watch was not one of those things. Something that could ever be covered or forgotten.

He knew he never would.

He shivered, his stomach sick, his head spinning.

Blood.

So much blood.

He’d thrown up then, and his dad had smacked him again.

His mom pulled back the covers and brushed her fingers through his hair.

Softly.

Gently.

Like she’d done when he was a little boy.

Like he was still good.

Like he hadn’t had that blood splattered on his shirt when his father had dumped him on the lawn and told him he’d be back soon.

“It’s okay, my brave boy. You don’t have to hide from me. I’ll never hurt you. Never judge you.”

Trent shifted, barely peeking out from under the sheet he had pulled over his face. “I don’t wanna go back, Mom. I don’t want to be like him.”

“Shh…” she whispered, leaning down to brush a kiss to his forehead. “I know, baby. I know. I’m gonna find a way. Find a way for us to disappear. You, and your brothers, and me. Does that sound nice?”

He fiercely nodded his head.

“It’s our secret, okay? Until we go, you don’t tell anyone.”

He nodded again. “I’ll take care of us, Mom. Wherever we go.”

“I know, my sweet warrior, I know.”