Page 82 of Claiming Liberty

“She’s fine,” Peter assures me. He must’ve read my thoughts. Or my face.

I turn back to him.

“We’ve already emptied the women’s quarters at the manor and taken out most of the guards. She’s safe.”

Safe.

Liberty’s safe.

“We can’t find Sawyer, though,” Peter adds, his face hardening. “We’re setting the manor on fire now. We’re gonna smoke him out.”

“Here,” a feminine voice to my right says. I turn to see Layan crouching by my side, an open bottle of water in her hand. I gratefully take it and chug, wincing at the contact against my throat. After a couple of seconds pass, the cool liquid works to soothe instead of ache.

She squeezes my shoulder before walking away, her destination seeming to be the manor.

When the bottle is empty, I toss it to the ground and meet Peter’s serious eyes again.

He pulls a key from his pocket and tosses it in my lap. “As much as I’d love to baby you, I need to get back to the manor. There’s a ship way out there.” He points behind me, and I turn but can’t see past the trees. “Take the speedboat with the red stripe across it, and go to the ship. Liberty should be there waiting for you.”

He gives me one last look. I spot something in his eyes that hints at regret before he stands and starts toward the manor.

“Why?” I croak, the one word a painful effort.

He turns to me, and I hope he understands my question because I don’t have it in me to elaborate.

Why do this?

Why save me?

“Chaffer told me what happened to my sister,” he says, the slightest bit of an apology in his tone.

I think he’ll leave it at that, but he doesn’t budge, the harsh lines framing his mouth softening some. “Did you care for her?”

Did I care for her? An outside observer would view this as a simple question, but there’s so much more to it.

He wants to know if I treated her like a slave or like a lover. If I loved her like I love Liberty. If she lovedmelike Liberty does. If she was happy.

The answer is no. I didn’t love her, she didn’t love me, and although there were times it felt like all was well, I now know that what I perceived as happiness in my previous life was surface level and always fleeting.

We fought, mostly about how I wouldn’t let her into my head. She wanted more. I don’t know if she wanted love, but she wanted trust. She wanted to know more about me, about my business, about everything. And I never gave any of that to her.

But did I care for her?

Yes. Always, yes.

I give him the best I can manage, which is a nod. I wish I could give him more.

He tips his chin, then turns and walks away.

I peer down at the key, heavy in my palm, and grasp it tightly. Mustering all my strength, I stand. Later, I’ll be able to recover.

Right now, I need to get to Liberty.

21

LIBERTY

“Somebody open the fucking door!”