Retribution (Kall Alien Warriors #3) - Sue Lyndon Page 0,2

of his mind and he was risking both their lives with his behavior.

While she undoubtedly sided with mankind, she still believed it best to go along with the Kall-Earth treaty and the terms of Earth’s surrender to the aliens. It was the only path toward semi-peace. The Kall were too powerful for mankind to have even the tiniest hope of defeating them. Michael was deluding himself if he thought the rebels stood a chance of compelling the remaining Kall forces to leave Earth.

“The rebels are a lost cause,” she blurted, not caring if the truth reignited his anger. “You’re a fool if you join them and I will not stand by and watch you destroy yourself. Now, I’ve asked you to go. Are you going to leave, or should I?”

“I’m not going anywhere, traitor bitch.” He stumbled backward and fell upon the couch, where he spread his legs out and settled into the cushions, making an obscene show of his intent to stay.

His words stung and she blinked fast when tears welled in her eyes. She shouldn’t be surprised by the name calling, but she was. The old Michael would’ve never called her a bitch or even screamed at her. He used to be laid back, kindhearted, and quick to laugh. She mourned the loss of him.

Had this crazed, cruel person always lurked underneath? Or could war and loss truly change someone so immensely? He was a shadow of his former self.

“Alright then,” she whispered. “I’ll be the one to leave.”

It didn’t take long to pack her things. She already had an emergency bag stashed in the back of her closet, which she’d packed after discovering the anti-Kall flyers. But, knowing she likely wouldn’t return anytime soon—if ever—she packed a second bag, shoving as many of her belongings inside as possible.

When she walked past the living room, Michael was sprawled out on the couch, snoring loudly. Her shoes crunched over shards of glass. She stood there for a minute, watching her husband sleep, as she held a suitcase in each hand. Would he remember their argument when he awoke? Would he have any regrets?

He’s old enough to be your father—it’ll never work.

The two of you are so different—be careful.

Proposing marriage after only two months of dating is a red flag—please don’t rush into anything.

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