Page 82 of Freedom’s Inferno

“You never learn, do you?” Richard said, his tone clipped and cold. “You push, and then you pretend you don’t understand why I lose my patience.”

His hand snapped out to grip her chin, fingers digging into her jaw as he forced her to meet his gaze.

Lana’s eyes burned, but she refused to let herself cry. She was already humiliated enough.

“I’m sorry,” she managed, the apology splintering as it left her mouth, her thoughts too scrambled to form anything else.

He stared at her for a long moment, unblinking, the kind of silence that scraped against her nerves. His gaze was sharp and unrelenting, a warning in itself.

Then, he laughed.

His laugh gathered volume, filling the room in sharp, jagged bursts. The sound was manic, hollow, too large for the space.

Lana’s skin prickled.

This wasn’t the warm, effortless release she remembered from the early years of their marriage. No, this laugh echoed through the foyer until the quality was inhuman.

Richard stopped laughing as suddenly as he’d started, his expression twisting into something tight and cruel. “You’re a liar.”

Richard’s grip slid from her jaw down to her throat, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. He walked into her, and with each unhurried step, she was forced to retreat.

Lana kept moving backward until her spine met the cool press of the wall.

Her husband brought one hand up, leaning against the wall and caging her in all at once. His presence crowded her senses, his breath warm against her skin, invading her space.

Richard’s hand curled tighter where he held her, his fingers pressing in to close around her windpipe.

Lana gasped, but no sound came out. Instinctively, her hands came up to claw at his wrist, the slow squeeze of his hold starting to cut off her air. Heat bloomed behind her eyes, her pulse loud and erratic, every heartbeat stealing a little more oxygen than the last.

The edges of the world blurred, and sound stretched thin. Her eyes bulged, wide and pleading.

Then, he let her go.

The air came back all at once, sharp and cold, flooding her lungs in ragged gulps. Her body reacted before her mind did—shoulders jerking, chest heaving, a desperate rhythm as oxygen rushed in like light breaking through water.

Richard dragged his nose up the length of her neck, breathing her in, and her skin crawled.

“Go clean yourself up,” he said. “We’re still going to that party. You can grab a scarf to cover your new necklace, or I can happily inform everyone about how you’re terribly turned on by erotic asphyxiation.”

Lana let out a shaky breath, shame clawing at her insides like a beast that wanted blood. “And my lip?” It hurt to use her voice.

“Cover it with makeup or tell them you deserved it. I don’t care.” Richard moved enough to clear her path, and his eyes followed her as she passed, heading for the stairs.

“Lana,” he said, stopping her in her tracks. “You’d better start using that pretty head of yours, or one day your mistakes might get you killed.”

The words slid through her like ice water, and something inside of her went very still, but she didn’t show it.

Lana turned, smiling as though nothing had changed, but underneath the fear, something else stirred. A choice. A line she hadn’t realized she’d been walking until that moment.

Richard didn’t know it, but he’d just written his own end.

Chapter 32

Charlie

The bathroom was small, lit by a single fluorescent bulb that buzzed overhead. The light was too bright, throwing my reflection into harsh relief. I wasn’t sure who was staring back at me anymore.

The hollows beneath my eyes were red, raw from the threat of tears that never came. God, I wanted to cry, it would’ve been a mercy, but something inside me held fast, a wall I couldn’t break through.