Page 97 of Freedom’s Inferno

She was still asleep, her head turned toward me, her lashes casting faint shadows on her cheeks. She looked smaller somehow, like the weight of what happened found her even in sleep.

“Hey,” I said, touching her arm. “We’re here.”

Her eyes fluttered open, slow and unfocused, and she gave a small nod.

I got out, came around to her side, and helped her out of the car. The night air was cold, biting at our skin. She shivered once, and I steadied her with a hand on her back. “Come on.”

Inside, the air smelled of cedar. I dropped the bags in the entryway, the sound dull against the hardwood floor. The house sat too still, like it hadn’t been lived in for years instead of days.

I turned to her. “You’ve been fussing over me for a week straight,” I said, trying for a smile. “My turn.”

She gave a tired, half-hearted laugh, and I guided her down the hall to the bathroom. The tiles were cold under our feet, the mirror fogging almost immediately as I turned on the hot water. Steam filled the small room, curling around us, softening everything.

“Sit,” I said, and she did, perched on the edge of the tub while I checked the water temperature.

Then I crouched in front of her, brushing a strand of hair from her face to see the cut on her temple. The wound was shallow, already scabbing over, the skin around it tender and bruised. My thumb hovered near it, careful not to touch.

“You’re lucky,” I murmured. Then, almost an afterthought, “My Lucky Lana.”

She didn’t say anything. She only smiled, weakly.

I glanced down at her hands next, turning one over in mine. The cuts across her palms were angry and red, small beads of blood still gathered in the deeper grooves. “You’ll feel these later.”

“I already do,” she whispered, eyes drawn tight.

I stood, tugging her to her feet. “Let’s get you warm.”

She hesitated, exhaustion and shock still dulling her movements, but she let me help her out of her clothes.

Every piece was damp, streaked with dirt, and I tossed them in a heap near the door.

She stepped into the tub, the heat of the water pulling a sharp breath from her lips.

I undressed, then I slipped in behind her, settling back so she could lean against me. The water rippled around us, carrying away the grime and the blood in faint pink swirls.

Lana rested her back against my chest, her head tipping back to my shoulder. I wrapped my arms around her, one over her ribs, the other along her waist.

Her breathing slowed, and the only sounds were the faint drip of the faucet and the water shifting when one of us moved. Her hair fell wet against my skin, her body trembling until the warmth seeped in.

I pressed a kiss to her temple, careful of the wound. “You’re safe. We’re free.”

She nodded once, her body relaxing for the first time in days.

I held her closer, my chin resting against her hair, both of us surrounded by steam and silence, the kind that felt like the world holding its breath.

Steam curled in lazy spirals toward the ceiling, the mirror long since fogged over. The world beyond the bathroom fell away. No Costa, no threats, no blood on our hands. Only her and this impossible, quiet moment after everything.

Lana’s fingers drifted over my forearm, slow and unsteady, tracing the veins beneath my skin like she was memorizing them. Her heart beat through her back, a steady rise and fall against my ribs, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I let myself breathe.

I didn’t plan to speak, but the words had been sitting in me from the moment I found out she was gone. Maybe even longer. Pressure built until I couldn’t hold them in anymore.

“I thought I lost you,” I said, my voice breaking against her damp hair. “When I saw that photo… when I heard you on the phone… I thought you were gone. And I realized‒” I swallowed hard. “I realized that if you were, then there wouldn’t be anything left worth saving.”

Her fingers froze. She turned enough to look at me over her shoulder. Her eyes were wide, raw, the blue of them catching the soft light.

“Charlie‒” she started, but I shook my head.

“Let me say it.” My throat burned, my chest too small for what was inside it. “You changed everything, Lana. Maybe in the way you called me out on my hypocritical bullshit, or how you made me see that life didn’t have to be one long punishment. I was locked inside myself for so long, trapped in guilt and anger, and you showed me how to break free of it.” I reached up, brushing my thumb over her cheek, my hand trembling a little. “You’re… inspiring,” I breathed, the word feeling too small for her. “You’re a goddess, Lana. The world trembles before you. I’m in awe of you.”