Page 68 of Freedom’s Inferno

She went rigid, some reflex she probably didn’t mean, but then she softened, leaning back until her weight rested against me.

I held her there, both of us staring out at the skyline, trying to share what warmth she had.

Neither of us spoke. The silence was heavy but comfortable, the kind that said more than words could. Shared exhaustion, shared fear, maybe even a shared hope we were both too superstitious to say out loud.

After a while, I said, “We’ll find a way out of this.” My breath stirred her hair. “We’ll figure out where the money went. There’s a trail somewhere. There has to be.”

She didn’t answer, but I felt her nod against my chest.

I tightened my hold, enough to show I meant it. “We’ll go back to your house. If there’s a safe, we’ll find it, and if not, we’ll look at everything again—the accounts, the statements, all of it. We’ll check the numbers on that damn card against the ledgers, the Longcast Trust records. We’ll riddle our way through it.”

Saying it out loud made it sound almost possible, like I could drag order out of the chaos if I kept talking. I wasn’t sure if I was trying to convince her or myself.

She turned her head, her temple brushing my jaw, and I pressed a kiss to her forehead. The gesture was instinctual, dangerous in its own way. I rested my chin on her head and let my eyes fall shut.

I didn’t know what waited for us on the other side of this. Maybe nothing, and maybe everything. I wanted to believe we’d make it through, that there’d be some version of peace waiting after the fire burned out, but I also knew better. People like us didn’t get clean endings.

Still, holding her there in the dark, I wanted it anyway. I wanted to believe in something as simple as getting through this together.

She shifted in my arms, a small, tired movement that pulled me back to the present. Her head tilted, enough for me to see the faint shimmer in her eyes before she blinked it away.

“We should rest,” I murmured.

She nodded, but she didn’t move.

I kept my arms around her a moment longer, memorizing the sensation of the warmth of her back against my chest. Finally, I loosened my hold. “Come on. Let’s go inside.”

She turned in my arms, her expression unreadable in the low light, and I brushed a thumb along her jaw before letting go. The suite was dark when we stepped back through the glass doors, the air inside warmer, still carrying the faint scent of wine and herbs.

“We’ll sleep in my room,” I said. “The window faces a parking lot. No buildings looking in.”

She didn’t argue. She followed me wordlessly, the blanket still around her shoulders, the echo of the city fading behind us as the door clicked shut.

Chapter 28

Charlie

The sheets were a wreck, half on the bed and half on the floor.

Lana lay sprawled on her stomach, the blanket tangled around her hips, her hair a red halo against the pillow. Morning light cut through the curtains in thin, golden lines, striping across her back. The light moved over her, tracing the gentle rise and fall of her breathing—the subtle play of muscle beneath her skin. A small birthmark rested below her left shoulder blade, dark against her pale tone.

I’d noticed it before, but now I caught myself staring at it, transfixed by the way it curved like a sickle.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she murmured without opening her eyes.

“I’m not looking,” I said.

She cracked one eye open, pinning me with it. “You’re lying.”

I laughed, leaning back against the headboard. “Are you planning on getting up sometime today? We have things to do…”

“I might,” she said, voice still rough with sleep. “I just need some motivation.”

I reached over, tracing the curve of her spine with my thumb. She gave an involuntary shiver, and my lip twitched. “Hot water and caffeine aren’t enough for you?”

She grunted, still half-buried in the pillow. “Your shower or mine?”

“Mine,” I said. “Yours has that ridiculous claw-foot tub. I don’t feel like tripping over the shampoo.”