I stand in front of the manor, my eyes trailing over the flames pouring out of burst windows.
Bodies dot the grounds, a pile on my left with Chaffer on top. Apparently, he wasn’t as big a part of the plan as he thought.
There’s a row of men standing just in front of me, their guns pointed at the front door in case Sawyer decides to escape through it.
He won’t. As thorough as these people think they’ve been, they don’t know Sawyer. He’s either waiting inside his fireproof safe room or he’s somehow managed to leave already. Even if the ambush surprised him, he was ten steps ahead of these people. He’s ten steps ahead of everyone, including me, at all times. Always.
I consider telling someone this, but instead, I just stare, my eyes dry and my throat burning. He left me to die, so it makes sense that I’d want revenge, but I’m catatonic instead. Lib is supposed to be on a big ship about a half mile out at sea, and I had every intention of heading straight to her, but the sight of the manor has me paralyzed.
It’s mesmerizing … and also a little sad.
Women are free now. The depravity has been stopped, and the world is a better place for it. But I still feel like a piece of me is dying inside that manor. Like the last twelve years of my life were nothing but a tainted blur.
The front door opens, and I suck in a sharp breath, tensing.
No.
To my surprise, it isn’t Sawyer.
I release my breath while staring in confusion as women push past each other out the door, more and more coming through.
I turn to find Peter, the confusion I feel mirrored in his expression, then I turn back to the flood of women.
Peter said they were already out.
What the fuck is going on?
Where’s Lib?
My chest tightens at that thought, more closely scrutinizing the screaming crowd that’s quickly approaching. Searching…
I stride to Peter as he slowly side steps to make room for the surge of women.
“What the fuck is going on?” I growl, only looking at him a moment before looking back at the crowd.
“I… I don’t know.”
“Lib’s not in there, right?” I ask, still not finding her among the others. When he doesn’t immediately answer, I swivel toward him. “You said she was already on the boat. You saw her, right?”
His mouth opens and closes, blood draining from his face.
I grip his collar and yank him toward me. “Did you fucking see her?” I roar, my voice raising as my blood pumps hotter.
He stares at me like he’s in shock, blinking several times before he finally answers. “I didn’t see her, I just assumed…”
My dry eyes widen as I push him away from me, his collar slipping through my fingers. Gripping my hair, I spin and frantically search through the crowd.
“Lib!” I walk past a couple of women crying in each other’s arms. “Liberty!”
My head moves left and right, my tense shoulders growing tauter with the movement. “Lib!” I call again, but as soon as I do, I know I won’t get an answer. There are a lot of women, but not so many that I wouldn’t be able to tell if she was here.
My heart jackhammers against my sternum when I see Elsie running from the manor. Our eyes meet, and I nearly double over at the sorrow written in her expression.
I take off toward the front door, running faster than I probably ever have.
“Where is she?” I yell at Elsie, barely slowing while passing her.
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.
Fire has this place lit up like we’re literally in Hell, but all I can see is red.
I climb on top of him and thrust my hands against his throat, squeezing as hard as I can while blood thumps in my ears.
On more than one occasion recently, I’ve been asked to kill this man.
Never did I think I could.
But seeing him with her… Knowing now what he’s capable of…
I’ve never wanted anything so badly.
He tugs at my wrists while my hands shake with intensity.
“Stop it!” Lib screams, yanking on my arms. “Stop, please!”
I don’t.
I can’t.
She takes my face, then jerks it so I’m looking at her.
“He saved me and Elsie.” The words rush past her lips, her voice cracking. “He saved all of us.”
Saved you?
He enslaved you.
He ordered your death.
He killed Beth.
He tried to kill me.
My eyes water, causing her image to blur. When Lib puts a gentle hand on my arm, I let go of Sawyer’s throat.
He gasps for air, clutching at his throat and rolling onto his side when I climb off of him.
“Go!” I say to Lib, my finger stabbed the way I came.
She shakes her head.
“Go, now,” I roar, my hands shaking with fury. Not at her. Never at her. Hopefully she knows it. She moves her eyes between Sawyer and me, then hesitates a few moments before turning and running the opposite direction.
I stare down at Sawyer who’s laying on his back, his bloodshot eyes looking sad. Defeated.
He makes eye contact but doesn’t speak.
“Why did you do it?” I ask, my voice low, pained. “Why did you kill Beth?”
He closes his eyes, creases jutting out beside them like he’s pained by the memory. When he opens them, he peers up at me. “Chaffer was using her to get information from you. He wanted to blackmail us to gain more control of the island.”
“So you killed her?”
My chest quakes as I suck in smoky air. I don’t for one second question this because instantly, it makes sense to me. All the prying. All the fights. The feud between Sawyer and Chaffer.
Beth was trying to play me. Chaffer was trying to play me.
And as always, Sawyer was ten steps ahead.
He closes his eyes again. “I’m sorry.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I demand just before my lungs constrict, and I let out several successive coughs.
I need to go. Now.
But I can’t. Not yet.
He shakes his head, his shoulders shifting in a partial shrug. “I didn’t think you would understand… But I knew after that night that it was a mistake.” He looks to his right and coughs. “I would never hurt you like that again. Jasper or Chaffer or whoever told you I ordered Liberty’s death… They lied, Angel.” More coughs, then he rolls his head to face me. “I don’t care if you kill me now, but if I have to die, I want to die with you knowing the truth.”
The truth.
There’s been so goddamn little of it in my life. My reality seems to constantly be changing, my perspective shifting, my own lies causing monstrous amounts of damage.
It’s been hard to sift through what’s true and what isn’t.
But this? Looking into Sawyer’s eyes, I know without a doubt is the truth.
And after all the headache, all the confusion, all the talk of manipulation, I know for certain that I didn’t get everything wrong.
I do know Sawyer.
Who he is and who he was.
What I don’t know is who he will be. That’s up to him.
I take the boat key Peter gave me from my pocket, study it a moment, then toss it at Sawyer’s feet.
Without a goodbye, I turn and walk away, too numb to force my steps to break into a run.
I walk from the manor just as the left corner caves in, the loud crash startling me, sparks singeing the cuffs of my pants. I turn my head that way only for a second before finding Liberty waiting for me on the lawn. She runs up to me, tears pouring from her eyes as she jumps into my arms.
Her lips find mine, kissing me like she’s desperate. Scared. Relieved. Happy. Sad. Every emotion possible wrapped up into one passionate kiss.
When we finally pull apart, we rest our foreheads against each other’s.
“Elsie already went to the ship,” Lib whispers.
“Is she okay?”
Lib’s lip trembles as she lets out a humorless laugh. “Are any of us?”
My mouth stays shut, holding back words I don’t think I should say, a habit I’ve found impossible to break.
But I’m done with lies. A lie is what brought me to Liberty, they’re what saved me from myself, liberated me, but that’s our past. There won’t be any lies in our future.
There’s no room for anything but the truth.
“I’m okay,” I reply, closing my eyes. “As long as I’m with you, I’ll always be okay.”
I open my eyes when Lib cups my face, a tiny smile on her face. “Let’s go home.” Her smile deepens. “Or into hiding, I guess.”
A chuckle slips past her lips as I set her on her feet. She takes my hand, and we start toward the row of boats, my eyes searching for one we can catch a ride on. A line of men still stand in front of the manor at the ready, but I have a feeling they’ll never see Sawyer again. Not even his corpse.
“We don’t need to go into hiding,” I say, clutching her hand.
She turns her head to look at me, confusion creasing her forehead. “How do you figure that? There’s what, a hundred plus people ready to give a full rundown of some pretty gruesome shit you did. I mean, sorry is good enough for me, but—”
“No one knows my name,” I say, cutting Lib off.
She quirks a brow.
“Angel Ramos is my island name. I use it to conduct business associated with the island residents, but it’s fake. Sawyer thought we should keep our legal names separate … just in case.”
Ten steps ahead.
“I’m not even a US citizen. Peter knows what part of Spain I’m from, but I mean,” I shrug. “We should be fine.”
“What’s your real name, then?” she smirks, and I can’t help but marvel at how beautiful she is. “Or don’t you trust me?”
Trust you?
I trust you with my life.
“Angel Rivera…” I squeeze her hand. “No more secrets.”
She flashes me a radiant smile, her eyes gleaming. “No more secrets.”
We face forward, walking into the sunrise instead of sunset, but it’s just as glorious.
“Liberty Rivera,” she repeats, leaning her shoulder into me. “I like the sound of that.”