Page 63 of Claiming Liberty

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Page 63 of Claiming Liberty

She’s mine.

And I’m never letting her go.

So she’d better not try to leave.

She squeezes me tighter and kisses my chest.

“I’m sorry, though.” I feel my lips sink. “I didn’t mean to have you ostracized.”

She lifts up her head to look at me, the sleep suddenly vanishing from her eyes. “You didn’t kill Beth.”

I stare at her a moment before looking away.

“Angel, look at me.”

She takes my cheek and turns my head toward her. “You didnotkill her. What happened was awful, but it wasn’t your fault. This whole fucking place…” She gives her head a shake. “None of this is your fault. You’re not the man who built this place, you’re the man who’s going to tear it down. And I love you for it.”

“Lib, I—”

“No,” she snaps. “I don’t care who you were a year ago or even who you were yesterday. I know who you arenow. And I’m with you. Forever.” Her enticing lips lift into a small, loving smile as she trails her nails through my hair. “We’re on the same team, right?”

The same team.

I see her meaning in her eyes, see the fear she still harbors that nothing has changed. I get what she’s asking me. It’s the same question Sawyer has been asking me since Lib got here.

Do you choose me?

“Yes,” I say, putting her mind at ease.

I know I can’t give her everything she wants. I’ll choose her over Sawyer’s false paradise in an instant. I’ll choose her over his fortune. I’ll choose her over his trust, over a relationship built over decades.

But I won’t end his life. I won’t choose that. Despite everything…

I tuck an errant strand of hair behind her ear and return her smile. “We’re on the same team. Always.”

Her smile widens, and she pecks me on the cheek. “Good.” She sits up all the way and kicks the sheet off her feet. “Now let’s get dressed.” She hops out of bed, her exhaustion no longer evident. “We have work to do.”

I sit up. “What?”

She walks to the closet and throws open the door without answering me.

I get up and go to her just as she’s pulling a blue dress off the hanger. “This should be good for Chaffer’s, right?” she asks, holding it up against herself while studying it in the full-length mirror.

“You’re not going to Chaffer’s.”

She glances at me only a moment before going back to the mirror. “Sure, I am.”

“Lib, you can’t—”

She spins to me and presses a finger to my mouth, her face stern as her eyes penetrate me. “Same team, remember?”

I swat her hand away. “Yes, but—”

“No.” Her lips set in a thin line. “I don’t care if you think it’s dangerous. I was there just last week, literally in the same room as Chaffer, and the world didn’t end. I’m going. You can’t change my mind, so why don’t we just skip the part where you try, mkay?”

She spins back to the mirror, but I doubt she’s still considering the dress. She almost looks … disappointed, maybe. Worried that I’ll argue further. Worried that I’ll refuse.

Just the thought of her leaving my house terrifies me, let alone her going to a mansion full of men who could potentially recognize her. Or at least become suspicious that I have a ‘new’ slave days after killing my previous one. Everything about it strikes me as dangerous, but at the same time…




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