Page 72 of Beloved Sacrifice

Marek let out a chuckle.

Weston looked at him coldly. “He was serious.”

Marek stopped. “Oh.” He picked up a small cheese knife and cut a wedge from a small wheel of brie. “How did you find someone in the Admiralty to contact?”

“Research,” Weston said. “I went back to school and accessed WorldCat. I started with the name. That brought me to Lord Admiral Nelson.”

“Who was famously in a trinity,” Rose said.

“Exactly. I followed his family tree, then that of the other two in his trinity, William and Emma Hamilton.”

“Even if you found a member to contact, they wouldn’t have given you any information.”

Weston stared into the flames of the fire. “I begged. I told them…” He had to stop and decide if he was going to lay the whole truth bare, or if he’d protect his heart, protect the naïve boy he’d been. “I told them that my younger brother, younger sister, and…and girlfriend were all being held hostage. That I didn’t know who to trust in the Trinity Masters, and didn’t have anywhere to turn for help.”

“You mentioned the Trinity Masters by name?” Marek asked.

Weston nodded. “I think that’s what got their attention.”

“If you told them all that, why didn’t they do something?”

“They wouldn’t,” Marek said quietly. “America belongs to the Trinity Masters. They cannot operate within in the United States.”

“Since no one seems to even know they exist, how would they get caught?” Rose demanded, looking at Marek.

Marek looked at him. Weston sighed. “They didn’t know that—I mean, the Admiralty didn’t know that the Trinity Masters didn’t know. At least the Admiralty didn’t until I told them. I traded them information about the Trinity Masters, including their ignorance of the Admiralty in exchange for money, a new identity complete with a British passport, and some advice. I flew to London, met with the Security Minister, and then came home. I confronted the Andersons and, well, you can see how that ended.

“The part I didn’t tell you was that I didn’t fly home alone. Two people came with me. One of them was Tristan. He and I hung out a bit when I was in London. I think he was supposed to be keeping tabs on me, but we went out drinking, stuff like that.” Weston shrugged. “He and the other guy had followed me to the apartment. They saw the fire, saw me trying to crawl away. They got me out.”

“Where did they take you?”

“Initially? Canada. Then London.”

“You said you were in a coma?” Rose said quietly.

“I was, for a while. Medically induced because of the burns. Then even when I woke up, I was in bad shape. Burns, broken bones. Muscle atrophy from the coma. I had a hard time dealing with losing my eye. I spent a lot of time in physical therapy. I was useless for nearly a year.”

“You could have called, texted, anything,” Rose said quietly.

When Weston didn’t answer, Marek did. He cleared his throat. “If I understand correctly, you two were romantically involved before Weston was hurt.”

Weston was surprised Rose had told the other man that, but nodded. She did the same.

“His mission was to save you. You and Caden and Tabby.” Marek spoke with deliberation. “He couldn’t do that in the condition he was in.”

Weston’s shoulders sagged. It was a relief to hear someone else say it. As if the fact that Marek had reasoned it out validated what he’d done.

“So what?” Rose spat, leaping to her feet. “You decided to wait until you were all healed, then you’d suddenly appear again?”

“There was nothing I could do when I was recovering.”

“You could have told me you were alive.”

“What good would that have done?”

Rose stared at him. “Fuck you, Wes.”

“What do you want me to say?” he demanded, pushing to his feet. “I tried to get us out, and I failed. I failed spectacularly.”

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