She scoffs. “And I’m supposed to blindly trust you after everything that’s happened?” She grits her teeth, forcing down the memory and fear.

“Not blindly, but we don’t have many other options.” His voice is breathy, revealing his exhaustion. There are several cuts on his face, one on his eyebrow, one at the corner of his eyes, and another splitting his lip.

She stands, kicking the chair as she does. Despite her anger, Lynell remembers Zach’s own fear. She hears him tell her to choose good and knows that he’s finally following his own advice. “I want to hate you,” she says, meeting his eyes. “I want to blame you. But I can’t. And that pisses me off.”

He stares at her for a moment before standing up and crossing the kitchen. He opens one of the cupboards and pulls out a plain black mug with a chipped handle.

“What are you doing?”

Zach ignores her and fills the mug with water before putting it in the microwave. He stands with his back to her, hands on the counter and head hanging forward. The sounds of the microwave whirring grates on Lynell’s nerves and when the countdown reaches one, Zach opens it before it can ding. He sinks a tea bag in the steaming water and hands it to Lynell. Avoiding her eyes, Zach stretches his fingers before pulling up his shirt.

Lynell gasps. There’s a large bandage covering his torso beneath his ribs with blood seeping through. A bruise blossoms from beneath the bandage and wraps around as if creeping along his skin to his back.

“What . . .” She trails off when Zach lifts the shirt up more and turns so she can see his back. She counts seven long cuts crisscrossing his back before he lowers the shirt.

“What happened?”

He returns to his seat at the table. “I shot my dad. He didn’t like that.”

Lynell follows suit, sitting across from him. “I wasn’t sure you’d escape.”

“I didn’t,” Zach says, looking up with a small grin. “I was so close. Just made it to the side entrance. I was going to take you guys out that way. Some of the guards over there hate my dad and always let me do what I want. It’s easy to get mistreated men on your side with a little kindness.” He sighs, pulling a hand down his face. “Unfortunately, the loyal brutes caught me.”

“And didn’t kill you?”

“Dad told them not to. I have no idea why. He probably knew I’d be able to get in touch with you.”

Lynell sits back, crossing her arms. “Which you did. You set us up.”

He shakes his head and shifts in his seat, reaching out to grab his mug of warm milk. “I didn’t. Or . . . I didn’t mean to. I was in a cell in the dungeons until yesterday morning. Reggie was given freedom to punish me. He was in the middle of getting creative,” he says, gesturing to his side where the large bandage was. Lynell flinches, trying not to envision Zach strapped to a table with a rat under a bowl above his hip. “He’d just started when . . .” Zach clears his throat and takes a long sip of his drink. “Then my father came down.” He takes a deep breath and Lynell holds her mug close, so the steam dampens her skin. “He took me to his room, and we were in there when my watch started dinging and flashing.”