Page 89 of Claiming Liberty

She spins to face my back. “By the staircase! Hurry!”

“Angel, no!” Peter’s voice hits my back, ping-ponging off of me with as much good as it does.

My feet barely touch the ground as I leap into the manor, my body soaking up too much adrenaline to realize until it’s too late that I’m missing an incredibly important detail.

The staircase.

Which. Fucking. Staircase?

There are four of them alone that lead to the second floor.

And then there’s a whole other floor above that.

Then there’s the staircase leading to the cellar.

The cellar.

Sawyer would’ve kept her there.

I sprint inside the manor and head for the cellar. “Liberty!” I shout as I run, my eyes darting around, searching every corner in case Sawyer tied her up like he did me.

No.

This can’t fucking be happening.

I pass the den, the open door showing curtains engulfed in flames.

If she’s dead… If Sawyer killed her… He’ll fucking wish he burned to death.

“Liberty!” I turn the corner, spotting the hallway to the cellar, but I’m forced to halt. Burning sheetrock covers the floor, the scalding hot flames as tall as me.

Fuck.

“Lib!” I yell, but this time it’s more a desperate cry than a call I want answered.

“Angel!”

I whip my head toward Lib’s voice so fast, I won’t be surprised if I wake up with whiplash. If I wake up at all.

“Angel, over here! Angel!”

I run in the direction of her voice, weaving through two halls before I come to the staircase Elsie must’ve been talking about.

There’s a burning rafter that’s fallen on it, blocking my way, but I still start up the stairs.

“Angel!”

I spin around, searching for her, then I jump off the stairs, hurrying around them to see her tugging on the arm of someone, helping them up.

When I rush closer, I see who it is.

Sawyer.

I push in front of Lib, shoving her behind me before I rear back my fist.

“Angel, no!”

My knuckles crash against Sawyer’s nose, sending blood spraying and knocking him back down to the floor.