Trenton Smith didn't know where she had been aggrieved again. He reached out to lift her from the stool, and as he lowered his head, he saw that the lock chain around her ankle had been undone. Glancing at the fully opened lock, his eyes briefly flickered, but he said nothing and carried her to the couch to sit down.
She reached out to wrap her arms around his neck and buried her face in his chest, sobbing uncontrollably.
Trenton Smith remained silent, simply stroking her hair slowly, waiting for her emotions to settle.
The smell of blood and gunpowder from Trenton's body entered her nostrils, and she had never felt as she did at this moment, that these scents coming from him were so unpleasant.
The elegant fragrance of his light cologne had long since vanished.
He could originally have had everything that all men dream of.
Maple Swallow was right, every man has ambitions.
Especially a man like Trenton Smith.
