Chapter 87

The pitiful sounds woke him, choked sobs and thrashing of blankets and limbs from the bed next to his. Trent rose and stared upon Thea. Tears wetted her cheeks. Her lips quivered, and even though she slept, he could smell the fear, the terror.

"What's wrong?" Darren whispered from the gap in the adjoining door. "I hear crying."

"She's having a nightmare," Trent replied. "Go back to bed. I've got this."

"Are you sure?"

"No. I'm going to let her suffer for no reason. Of course I'm fucking sure."

"Well, excuse me for asking. Shout if you need a hand." Darren eased the door back to its previous position of open just a sliver.

Trent crouched beside the whimpering woman, his conversation with Darren not enough to break her sleep pattern. "Thea, wake up." He spoke low and to no avail. She sobbed. He tried again, a little louder. "Thea. You're having a nightmare. Wake up." Reaching out a hand, he shook her shoulder. And still she cried.