Page 25 of Freedom’s Inferno

I exhaled, hard, staring toward the window. The night outside was wrong. Too still, too quiet. My reflection looked back at me, haunted and wired.

We weren’t safe here. Not after Costa’s men had found us at Byres’ gala. But panicked movement was its own kind of stupid, and whether she liked it or not, I wasn’t leaving her alone in this house.

Chapter 11

Lana

Upstairs, I shut the door behind me and leaned against it until the tremor in my hands settled. The familiar comfort of my bedroom was the first solid thing I’d felt all night. I peeled out of the gown one layer at a time, the fabric sliding off my skin. The sequins scattered faint reflections onto the wall, tiny fragments of the gala clinging to me even now. I wanted to rip them off, every sparkle, every trace of that place, of him.

The sweatpants hanging off the back of the chair were soft and shapeless, blessedly ordinary. I tugged them on and pulled an oversized sweatshirt over my head. My hair came next: pins and jewels loosened, one by one, clinking onto the vanity like falling glass. When I shook it free, it tumbled past my shoulders in a mess of curls, wild and unrestrained. I didn’t care.

The mirror caught my reflection: bare-faced, raw, and pink-skinned from the washcloth. My eyes looked too dull, too tired. I hated that I could still taste adrenaline, and that the ghost of his hands, his mouth, lingered. I was furious with Charlie, but I was angrier with myself for letting him get close enough to rattle me. I told myself I didn’t need his protection, I could handle this alone, but when I’d seen Costa’s man at the gala, dread had clawed its way back up my throat, choking me.

I should have gone over the photos, the ones I took of Byre’s computer. I should have been looking for answers, and making a plan, but instead I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at my phone in silence. My head was too full of noise to make sense of any of it.

Sighing, I reached for the top drawer of the dresser and pulled it open. The small glass jar was tucked neatly between rolls of socks. I unscrewed the lid, fingers brushing over delicate papers, the scent of Earth and skunk spilling into the air. Something familiar. Grounding. I rolled the joint with care, methodical, the act itself soothing.

Then, padding barefoot down the hall, I descended the stairs and made for the back porch. I didn’t run into Charlie. He must have been changing and, honestly, I was relieved.

The night air was crisp, but I dressed warm enough to be comfortable. The soft hush of darkness and crickets wrapped around me in a soothing embrace. I struck the lighter, the flare of orange flickering stark against the blackness, illuminating the tip of my thumb as moths fluttered by. Smoke filled my lungs as I took a drag, then exhaled slowly, watching the gray curl and fade into nothing. The world didn’t stop spinning, but it slowed enough for me to breathe.

I tried to trace the path that led me here. When had marriage turned into motive and love into a sentence I was still serving? I searched my memory for the shift. Somewhere between the grand gestures and the first time he raised his voice. Between being adored and being managed.

Richard had never lacked confidence, but he used to laugh easily, used to treat my opinions like additions instead of threats. By the time I realized the laughter was gone, I was already bleeding.

The screen door scraped open, and I glanced over my shoulder.

Charlie stood there in a fitted black short-sleeve T-shirt and gray sweatpants, holding the package of Halloween Oreos out in front of him like a white flag, small goosebumps already forming on his exposed arms. His brown eyes slid to the joint clutched between my fingers, and back to me, a look of confused surprise crossing his face.

I tore my gaze away from him, lips pulling smoke, fighting to snuff the fire that raged again at the sight of that fucking look on his face. Charles Sterling thought he knew me. He was so sure he had me all figured out. He knew nothing.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

I refused to turn around. Not yet.

“I didn’t mean to be so harsh earlier,” he continued. “I was reeling from… well, everything. Look, I dunno what kind of marriage you had with Richard. I mean, obviously, it didn’t end well…”

My fingers tightened around the railing as I stared at the full moon ahead of me. It dominated the sky, swollen and bright. Perfect. The moon illuminated the silhouettes of the trees, half-bare from dropped leaves which curled as the breeze rustled them through the lawn.

I filled my lungs with smoke and autumn air, and let it take me away from whatever the fuck this man was talking about.

“I don’t have many friends, and I know this sounds pathetic, but I’m having a hard time reconciling that maybe he wasn’t a friend at all.” His voice cracked on his last word, and he cleared his throat.

Something fragile in me peeked its head up to listen. I turned around, and when our eyes met I saw not a thirty-five year old man, but a boy wrought with guilt and grief. The man who’d spent the whole weekend posturing, threatening, and trying to keep control of every conversation wasn’t there. The person who stood in front of me was someone wrecked by loss, and betrayed by the one person he’d trusted most.

I reached out, extending him the joint like I was handing him an olive branch.

He took it with a sad smile, and moved to join me, tearing open the Oreos and setting the package on the railing between us. The two of us stared into the yard, passing the joint in silence save for the crinkle of plastic as we dug into the cookies.

The air hung heavy, like a confession just out of reach. I wanted to be angry, but somehow, the edges of my anger dulled.

“I didn’t mean for any of this,” I said, the words surprising me. “Richard wasn’t the man you thought he was.”

He looked away, jaw tight, but his throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Yeah,” he said after a beat. He took a long drag before continuing. “I’m starting to figure that out.”

The two of us stood like that until the joint burnt to ash. My body transcended to another planet and the steady pressure behind my eyes begged me to fall into my sheets. This was the most relaxed I’d been in weeks.

Until Charlie opened his mouth again.