I think for a moment, remembering all the shit Dickers and Trent were shouting at each other.
Then my eyes seek out Jacob.
I see him sitting on the floor, propped up against the wall, with Uriel towering over him, aiming a gun at his head. Jacob doesn’t even sense my attention on him. No, he’s focused solely on his son, Trent.
Trent who is still squirming and wiggling around on the floor with two useless arms, crying and blubbering.
Tears streaming down his face, Jacob looks utterly broken and defeated. Like a man who is watching his entire world crumble to pieces.
I almost want to feel pity for him. Like… that’s my first instinct. To pity a person who is suffering and in pain.
I hate seeing others in pain, it’s always bothered me. For whatever reason, I can’t stand to see others hurting.
But Jacob had no pity for me when he was strangling the life out of me…
He even had the nerve to say my father would understand to make himself feel better about what he was doing.
My father was a good man. Yes, I know James said he worked with Lucifer, and I don’t doubt that he did. He probably used Lucifer to do what he couldn’t, just as James said.
And after everything I’ve heard today… everything that I’ve seen…
It only reinforces my belief that my father would never understand. Because he wouldn’t do want Jacob did. If the roles were reversed, if it was me in Trent’s place and my father in Jacob’s, my father wouldn’t try to kill Trent to protect me.
My father would turn me in for justice.
It would hurt him, yes, but he’d still do it. Because that would be the right fucking thing to do.
And now I have the chance to do right by him, and me.
Because I know… I fucking know deep in my heart somehow James will make this right.
Well, as right as he can.
Typing it in as fast as my fingers will move, I write out what went down with my father, Jacob, Dickers, and Trent.
I type out that Dickers and Trent were working with the Russians, but Jacob wasn’t. Jacob was just trying to cover up for Trent.
I end with: Dickers convinced Jacob to strangle me to death to save all their asses.
When I’m done, I thrust the phone out, holding it up for James before Lucifer and Andrew can finish reading.
Literally stepping on top of Trent to reach me, James accepts the phone, his eyes quickly scanning over my typing.
I watch his face, watch all the little changes, as he processes what he’s reading. Little changes I wouldn’t have noticed before but recognize now after our time together. At first there’s surprise in his expression, but then his jaw tightens. Clenching so hard I’m surprised I don’t hear his teeth cracking.
By the time James looks up, locking on me again, red has creeped up his neck and his eyes are nearly black with anger.
“What’s on the phone? Show me,” Simon demands as he approaches James.
James thrusts the phone back without even looking at Simon, his attention still riveted on me.
“Andrew, please see to my wife,” James says then slams his boot down, right on top of Trent’s groin. “She’s been through some shit.”
Trent bounces up a little off the floor as if he’s trying to bend in half and grab himself. But he can’t without the use of his arms, or the way is James pushing down on him.
“Please… fuck…” Trent begs and squirms helplessly against the floor. “I’m sorry…”
Eyes lighting up with a wicked light, James lifts his foot and slams it down harder.
I cringe, and again, I almost feel pity for Trent. But after all the shit he’s done to me… he deserves some pain.
I almost wish I could stomp down on him too. Give him a few kicks from me.
Approaching James, Simon pauses to glance down at Trent in disgust, then carefully steps around him, taking the long way around to avoid being anywhere near him.
Simon greedily snatches the phone from James’s hand right before Andrew appears in front of me.
“I’m going to touch you, Sophia, so I can check you out, and I’ll try my best not to hurt you,” Andrew says before he gently grabs the sides of my face and peers into my eyes.
“This… this…” Simon says in surprise, reminding me a little of a kid on Christmas morning.
“Her pupils are slightly dilated… and she has several busted capillaries… That’s why her eyes look like they’re bleeding… probably from the strangulation,” Andrew murmurs thoughtfully before his focus drifts up.
Trent lets out a little scream.
Examining my head, Andrew lightly probes at an achy spot in the center of my forehead.
I can’t help but hiss, flinch, and try to pull away from him.
“What did they hit you with?” Andrew asks with a frown.