Page 84 of Claiming Liberty
The panicking women rush to the door, shoving and crying out while they each compete for the spot closest to the imaginary exit.
“Keep screaming!” I instruct, beads of sweat breaking out on my forehead. It’s hotter in here than it was a minute ago, but I try to ignore that frightening fact. Try to pretend it’s all the hot breaths and body heat. Even as my chest feels like a hummingbird is trapped inside.
One woman stumbles and falls to the floor in the middle of the crowd, her features crumpled in pain. I can see her through the five or so sets of legs surrounding her when she gets kicked in the back of the head.
No one else even seems to notice.
“Calm down!” I rush to her, having to shove two people out of the way before I can grab her arm to help her up. “Stop panicking!”
“Lib!” Elsie cries just behind me.
I help the woman up, then spin just as Elsie’s shoved hard into the wall. Her head slaps against the sheetrock before she falls in a heap on the floor.
“Elsie!”
I dive to my knees beside her and turn her head toward me. Her eyes are closed, and her lips are parted.
She’s knocked out.
Someone kicks my back, and I jolt forward, nearly crushing Elsie.
“Stop!” I hopelessly growl, looking over my shoulder. I grab Elsie’s arms and pull her as far away from the chaos as I can, but the room was cramped before the panic began. Now the room feels more like a tiny jar packed with wasps, all frantically searching for the way out.
I hold Elsie’s head in my lap and caress her cheek while tears cool my hot cheeks. Never would I have thought I’d be glad about her being knocked out cold.
I don’t want her to see what happens next.
22
SAWYER
Inever wanted to be the villain.
It’s true, I didn’t. I’ve never thought much about what Ididwant to be, even as a kid, but as I stand in my safe room, staring at the men with machine guns backing away from the manor, the only thing that’s perfectly clear to me is that this isn’t what I want.
Not because I lost to Chaffer.
Not because I’m losingeverything.
But because I just killed my brother, and it wasn’t even necessary. Unbeknownst to me, it was too late to stop this. Angel could’ve lived, if they didn’t kill him too. He could’ve taken off with his girl and lived as peaceful a life as someone like him is capable of.
But now he can’t. He’s dead. I killed him.
Fornothing.
“We should go,” Austin says beside me, watching the same retreat that I am. Several other cameras show the manor, fire spreading through the inside and out. The inside caught from their grenades, but for the outside, they used the same flamethrower I used to burn Angel’s house. It’s fitting that I die the same way he did.
But I can’t. Because I’m a selfish asshole.
“Yeah,” I agree, my head slowly bobbing.
Austin opens the door to the safe room, more books clattering to the ground when they fall off the shelf meant to conceal the cube of reinforced steel. He holds it open for me, and I take a breath before striding through, pushing my thoughts to the back of my mind.
I can pout later.
Right now I need to survive.
We walk from the sitting room I use to greet the newcomers, the safe room door hanging open, and don’t reach any flames until we come to the kitchen, which sucks because it’s our destination.