Page 40 of Claiming Liberty

“Can you blame me?” Sawyer asks, his tone defensive. “I was afraid you’d do something stupid like let her go, and youdid. I was protecting us.”

Himself. He was protecting himself. Not us.

I can’t think about that right now.

She’s dead. If Jasper found her, it’s a guarantee that he killed her.

But she made it to Peter. He took her somewhere.

I tense at that thought, hope building.

Jasper might not have found her.

The front door swings open, and frantic screams erupt from inside. Two men hobble onto the porch, walking around me and trudging down the steps, one of them hanging on the other.

“Sir!” I turn my head to see Cooper hurrying onto the porch with Anna in his arms, the open door allowing the screams to reach us.

Sawyer’s face twitches with worry as he takes her. She’s barely conscious, and vomit sticks to her cheek and hair.

“What’s going on?” he asks, panic saturating his words.

Cooper jerks to look behind him then shakes his head at Sawyer. “I—I don’t know. It’s the whole playroom.”

A woman rushes through the door, shrieking and flailing her arms. She jumps over me, and it’s what I need to snap out of the momentary stupor.

I stand, and Sawyer grabs my shoulder to stop me as I start off the porch. I jerk from his grasp and stride away as more people shove to get outside.

I can’t think about whatever’s happening at the manor. I have to get to Peter.Now.

I need to find Lib before someone else does… Someone like Jasper.

“Angel!” Sawyer calls to my back, his voice pleading. I ignore it.

My strides shift into a run until I’m full out sprinting to my boat, ignoring the stampede of wailing people behind me.

9

LIBERTY

Peter’s forehead rests in his palm like he has a migraine. “You need to be patient.”

I pace the rug in Kingsley’s living room while he and Layan sit quietly on the couch. Peter is at the window, his elbow digging into the frame.

“My niece can’t afford patience,” I sneer, stopping my pacing long enough to unclench my fists at my sides and face him. He doesn’t look at me, but he does lower his hand and open his eyes, peering out the window.

Kingsley fidgets on the couch. “Liberty, if you just—”

He stops, mouth open when I glare at him, and he raises his hands and bows his head in defeat.

I start pacing again, a lump forming in my throat.

It’s been seventy-two hours, and we havenoidea if we’ve caused any friction between Sawyer and Chaffer. For all we know they could’ve fought, Sawyer could’ve explained himself, Chaffer could’ve had it verified that I’d been lying, and they could’ve moved on.

In the meantime, we’re here hiding out in Kingsley’s house like cowards, waiting for something to happen.

I push back my hair, my eyes starting to water with frustration.

“We have to dosomething,” I say, though it sounds more like a demand. I groan into my hands, my feet pausing. “I can’t just sit here.”