Page 80 of Claiming Liberty

One way or another, this is all about to end.

“Well,” Joan answers for me, her voice as skeptical as I feel. “The good news is, if we’re going to fight, everyone here is on board.” My eyes follow as she gestures around at all the women, seeing their bitterness, the hatred, the sorrow I couldn’t see when I was at Chaffer’s the other night. It was there, lurking beneath the surface, covered up by smoke and lust.

“The bad news is, I doubt we’ll get the chance,” Joan finishes.

I try to argue, even in my mind, wanting to stay positive, but it’s hard.

When Elsie looks at me, her eyes big and sad, I close my own and hug her to my chest. Once more, I try to summon the fighter in me. I’m going to need her.

Something tells me my knight isn’t coming for me this time.

20

ANGEL

My lungs feel impossibly full while empty at the same time.

My coughing is endless, like there’s so much filth inside of me, my body is demanding to get it out, but there’s no oxygen to be found. Or if there is any in the room, I don’t know where to get it.

I uselessly shove my shoulder into the front door for what must be the hundredth time. The doorknob is too hot to touch, but that proved to be equally useless. Before it got too hot, the knob turned in my bound hands when I grasped it from behind me, but the door wouldn’t budge. And believe me, I put everything into it. It wouldn’t move a centimeter. Something’s blocking or bolting it shut.

The fire must’ve been set in the back of my house because the kitchen was the first thing to go up in flames, making the back door off limits.

So that leaves the windows. Which would be doable if I wasn’t tied so effectively. My hands are tied to the back of my knees, so it took an immense amount of strength and muscle strain in my arms and shoulders just to get to the door. Standing up isn’t possible.

Liquid spurts from my mouth with my next cough, and I look down at my shirt where the black slime landed.

Fuck.

I turn to the door and shove against it with as much vigor as I have left in me. My eyes water and sting from smoke, so I close them. I would let out a frustrated scream if I could stop coughing.

I don’t know when it happens... The action isn’t conscious, but at some point, I stop ramming into the door. My coughing slows, then ceases altogether, and I fall onto my side.

This is it.

I never gave much thought about how it would feel to die. I think that’s something reserved for people who are afraid of death. Even now, I don’t feel fear, even though that fact barely makes sense to me.

I feel … okay … as strange as that sounds.

I’m not dying out of someone’s revenge. I’m not dying because I’ve wronged someone. I’m dying because for once in my life, I tried doing the right thing. I tried not being the villain. It came at a great cost, but it was worth it.

I made amends with my older brother, something I’d been wanting to do for a hell of a long time. I said everything I wanted to say to Julia. I got to say goodbye to my mother and youngest brother.

And I got to find love.

As short as my life’s been, it was a fuller life than I would’ve had if I’d stayed the course. Stayed the villain.

Liberty’s going to be okay. Chaffer will be attacking any time now, and if I know Liberty—which Ido—she’ll find her way out of it. She’ll find a way to be free.

What more could I possibly ask for?

Her image floats into my mind as my consciousness drifts off.

She’s in that red dress, the one she wore when we first met, and she’s smiling at me. She walks up to me and lays a delicate palm against my cheek. She’s warm. Fiery hot, really, but still, I lean into the touch.

My skin sears where she touches me, and sparks fly from her hair. She’s still smiling when flames ignite in her brown locks then spread from one shoulder to the next.

It’s hot, like I’m standing next to an open oven, but I don’t feel the fire licking me. It doesn’t look like she does either.