Page 67 of Freedom’s Inferno

Lana stood out on the balcony, her silhouette washed in the last spill of the sunset.

I watched her from the living area, my feet rooted to the carpet.

She belonged to autumn, red hair like embers carried on the wind. The light found her, turning her skin to soft gold, outlining every curve and shadow until she appeared ethereal. My flannel hung loose around her shoulders, the hem brushing the tops of her bare thighs.

I couldn’t take my eyes off her. I stood there, taking her in, trying to understand the knot of emotion in my chest. Fuck, I wanted her, but it was more than desire. It rose behind my sternum, a quiet swell that pressed outward until it hurt to breathe. It built gradually, curling beneath my ribs like something alive, something that demanded to be felt. The pressure was almost unbearable, not sharp but deep, like my body was too small to contain what had taken root there. I didn’t think relief existed for that kind of ache.

She stood barefoot, unguarded, adrift in her own thoughts, and I could only look at her, struck silent by the sheer, aching beauty of it.

I grabbed the throw blanket draped over the back of the chair and went out to her. The evening air was colder than I expected, yet she stood out there half-dressed, watching the kaleidoscope of colors fade across the sky.

“Hey,” I said, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders. “It’s too cold to be out here.”

She didn’t look at me. She kept her eyes on the horizon, where the sun slipped behind the skyline. “I wanted to see the sunset.”

I stepped closer. “You shouldn’t be standing out in the open. Not with Costa’s men watching.”

Her laugh was quiet and hollow, absent of humor. “Let them watch. They’ve already seen too much.” She pulled the blanket tighter, her gaze still fixed ahead. “It feels pointless to keep hiding when we’re already fucked.”

The words landed heavier than she probably meant them to. I didn’t answer right away. I was supposed to be the pessimist, but somehow we’d traded places. I reached into the back pocket of my jeans and pulled out the small business card, the one we’d found in the safety deposit box. The numbers scrawled across the back had been haunting me ever since we found it.

“We still have this,” I said, holding it out to her. “Maybe Richard kept a safe somewhere. These numbers could be a combination.”

She took the card from my hands, looking down at it. The sunset painted her face in gold and fading crimson. “Maybe,” she said. “But I’m not aware of any safe…”

“We could go back to your house. Tear the place apart…”

She nodded but said nothing.

Silence settled between us as she leaned into the railing, her gaze fixed somewhere far beyond the skyline. She was lost in her head again.

I searched for something—anything—that might pull her back. Some plan that actually meant something.

What came out instead was, “I’ve been thinking about the letter.”

Her head tilted, the blanket shifting at her shoulders. “From your mother?”

“Yeah,” I said, swallowing hard. “I’ve carried it around for years,” I continued, staring at my hands where they gripped the railing. “Ten years, maybe more. I keep thinking I’ll open it, but I never do.” I hesitated. “I think I’m afraid to.”

I wasn’t good at talking about myself. Hell, I’d spent most of my life trying not to, but standing beside Lana made me feel like maybe I didn’t have to carry the weight anymore.

Then she said, “You don’t have to read it alone.”

I couldn’t breathe. “I was thinking…” I started, pausing to clear my throat. “Maybe if you read it. I don’t know, maybe it’d be easier hearing it from you instead of…” I trailed off, unable to finish.

“Charlie…” She turned toward me then, one hand emerging from the blanket to rest against my arm. “If you want me to, I will.”

The raw sincerity in her tone broke me.

I nodded, blinking hard against the sting in my eyes, my gaze drifting to the horizon where the last of the light was fading. “Tomorrow,” I murmured, fighting to keep the tremor from my voice.

The wind stirred again, carrying the faint smell of rain.

She didn’t let go of my arm right away, and I didn’t step back.

For once, standing there with her in the fading light, I didn’t feel like I had to. We didn’t say anything for a while after that. We stood there, Lana wrapped in the blanket, our eyes on the horizon where the last edge of light had slipped away. The city was dim now, humming below us, the air sharp with the promise of night. I didn’t know what made me move, only that standing apart from her suddenly felt impossible.

I stepped closer and slipped my arms around her from behind.