Page 15 of Claiming Liberty

He stands up straight and turns to me with an almost blank expression. His eyes are all that give away hints of his lingering curiosity. It doesn’t surprise me that he’d be interested in a rift between Sawyer and me.

“You understand how invested in this I am, right? I know your reasons for agreeing to help the woman, and I respect you for it. But if I ever found out you told anyone about this, including Sawyer, I would see it as a betrayal. I don’t care what anyone threatens you with, I promise, if she’s hurt because of your actions, I will react accordingly. I need that to be perfectly clear.”

Creases form around his eyes as he glares at me, his hands tensing at his sides. He just helped me do something we both know could get him killed, so yeah, I get the sentiment. But we also both know the smartest thing for me to do in order to ensure no one finds Lib is to kill him. If I thought I couldn’t trust his discretion, I would.

“The threats aren’t necessary, sir,” he says, his tone lacking any trace of respect despite the words. I can’t blame him.

I give a curt nod, and he spins around and stomps away.

I face the ocean and start the journey to the manor. When it comes into view, it feels more like a foreign place than my home for the last decade.

I park the boat and take a deep breath before walking up to the gate. My hands flex into fists, opening and closing, so I tuck them inside my pockets to hide the anxious movements.

My jaw clenches and face hardens when I reach the gate, giving a nod as the guard opens it to let me through. Lately, I’ve resented my inability to easily show my emotions, but now I wear it like a badge of honor. I need it for the conversation I’m about to have with Sawyer.

I ask the guard at the front door where Sawyer is, and he leads me to a sitting room Sawyer uses quite a bit for guests. It’s the same room Jasper brought Chaffer to when Sawyer was out of the country and Jasper was filling in. My brother would’ve lost his head if he had seen his greatest rival sitting in his chair, smoking his cigars.

I go to grab the doorknob but pause when the guard knocks like he wants to give Sawyer a heads up.

Why?

A stuttered breath leaves my nostrils, and I try to mask my nerves by standing up straight and rolling my shoulders back. I throw open the door before Sawyer responds and step into the room, only to stop a moment later when I take in the young woman—maybe even girl—sitting next to Sawyer on the sofa. Tears streak her face, and she turns away like she doesn’t want me to see. Or maybe it’s that she doesn’t want to look at me.

Sawyer jolts to standing when he sees me, quickly replacing his surprised, parted lips with an easygoing smile and spreading out his hands.

“Mr. A… Welcome back.”

3

LIBERTY

Water droplets fall from the tips of my hair onto Peter’s friends’ bathroom sink as I stare at myself in the mirror. I’m a hot mess with a few little cuts on my face, but it’s the bruises around my neck that make me appear battered.

I sigh. I’m not exactly out of place here, am I?

Voices boom up the stairs and through the space between the door and white-tiled floor. I turn my head that way as I blot my hair with the towel that my body has already dampened. A pair of shorts and a tank top belonging to a woman named Layan rest on the toilet seat.

It was late last night when I made it to Peter’s friends’ home. The two of them, Kingsley and Layan, stood outside with a porch light on like they were waiting for me, and when I came into view, they had drastically different approaches to greeting me. Kingsley waved and bellowed out an enthusiastic greeting, and Layan stood back, sizing me up like she didn’t know what to think of me. I don’t know what to think of them either, but I don’t have high expectations. Peter told me nothing about these people, but Kingsley is a man choosing to live on the island, so I automatically don’t like him. Of course, I’ve been proven wrong before.

I was exhausted and just wanted to be shown to my room. I only woke up about a half hour ago, opting to go straight for the shower, so we still haven’t had to awkwardly make conversation. That’s about to change.

I finish drying my hair, then pull on the clothes, my lips in a thin line as the muted voices grate my ears. I have no desire whatsoever to make polite conversation with anyone, but this isn’t my home, and I don’t know when Peter will be back, so I use the towel to soak up the puddle my feet made by the tub then hang it up and head out of the bathroom.

Elsie is at the front of my mind when I turn to head down the stairs, and I’m already lost in thought about what information I can get out of these two that might help me get to her. My steps halt when I spot the source of the voice I heard, my hand grasping the staircase banister for support.

Kingsley stands rubbing his neck while peering down at a laptop opened on his coffee table that a man I vaguely recognize is typing on. Kingsley fidgets like he’s nervous, and when Layan’s eyes move to me, I can see the same nervousness reflected in her brown irises. She sits in a chair next to the couch, her hands placed delicately in her lap. The collar around her neck catches my eye. She wasn’t wearing it last night, and the sight of it now has me sickened.

Kingsley must sense my presence because his gaze finds me, and he jumps, his eyes going wide. The man with the laptop looks up as well.

“H-Hey,” Kingsley says before clearing his throat. “Good morning.”

I dip my chin in greeting and walk down the stairs into the living room. I get the strong feeling that I’m invading something private, but I think it’d be more awkward for me to turn back at this point, so I continue.

“I thought you only had one slave,” Laptop Guy grunts, his pinched expression aimed at Kingsley.

All at once, I realize who the man is and why he’s vaguely familiar. He’s a manor guard. Or at least I’ve seen him there, at the manor. I never got the impression that he was a guest.

I cross my arms over my chest and look down so my hair will shield me as I walk to stand behind the couch, out of Laptop Guy’s view. I don’t think he’ll recognize me since I barely recognize him, but a small jolt of anxiety rushes through me anyway.