Page 41 of Claiming Liberty
“These things take time,” Layan says, her voice soft but firm. I turn to her, a snarky report on the tip of my tongue, but none of this is her fault. Her hair is swept to the side, still damp from a shower. She wears it in a side braid every day to cover up the fact that part of her ear is missing. And that’s only a small piece of the torture she endured from her last master.
That’swhy Kingsley and Layan were so concerned for me when I arrived. They were worried I’d had similar experiences as a slave. She went through hell, and if she can be patient, I should be able to.
But I’m not.
I’m just fucking not.
“I know,” I groan, raking a hand through my hair. “I know, I just can’t sit here another—”
“Shut up,” Peter says, his eyes bulging as he stares out the window. Normally, I would spit something back at him, but his panicked expression sobers me.
He shoves away from the window just as someone furiously bangs on the door.
“Go,” he commands, pointing to the hallway just off the living room.
My heart stops as cold fear seizes me like I’ve been submerged in an ice bath. Layan grabs my hand and drags me into the hallway, Peter leading us, just as the door bursts open.
With my back planted against the wall, I peer at the stairs, my breathing heavy. Too heavy. If someone is here for me, they’ll find me in a second.
“Woah,” Kingsley says. “What’s going on?”
“Where is he?” a voice demands.
My lips part, and I jerk my head to peek into the living room. I can’t see him, but I know that voice. I’d recognize the accent anywhere.
Angel.
Layan tugs my wrist, urging me down the hallway, but I stay rooted in place.
“Where’s who?” Kingsley asks.
“Youknowwho. Fucking Peter. I need to speak to him.Now.”
“H-have you checked his house?” Kingsley stammers. I wince imagining the icy glare Angel’s probably giving him.
There’s a bang followed by the sound of glass shattering, making me flinch. I inch that way, but Layan squeezes my wrist to get my attention. I turn to look at her, and she shakes her head. Peter knocks his head back, gently hitting the wall as he seems to be deciding something.
“He left his door unlocked. He wouldn’t do that if he wasn’t close by.”
“I’m sorry, sir. I-I don’t—”
“Then get him here!”
Peter pushes off the wall and walks into the living room, his stance rigid like he isn’t afraid. I don’t know how he couldn’t be... I am. I’ve never seen Angel’s temper until now. He soundsviolent.
“I’m here,” he says, stepping out of my view. “What do you want?”
“Were youhidingfrom me?” Angel asks, disgust evident in his tone.
“Well, when you come barging into someone’s home—”
“Where’s Liberty?” Angel asks, clearly not caring about Peter’s explanation.
Where’s Liberty?
He knows I’m on the island?
Peter clears his throat, finally showing some nervousness. “You gave me the task of keeping her safe. I’m doing the best that I can to—”