Page 21 of Freedom’s Inferno

His brows lifted in question, but I didn’t wait for him to argue. I slipped my hand through the crook of his arm and steered us toward the edge of the crowd. Everyone was too busy cooing over puppies to notice us peel away. The laughter, the applause, the delighted gasps of the room dulled as we slipped into the corridor. My pulse quickened, not from nerves, but from the rush of it. Timing was everything, and this time the universe had delivered us a gift on a leash. Now we had to get in and out of Byres’s office before anyone noticed we were gone.

Chapter 9

Chuck

Lana didn’t hesitate as she threaded us through the corridors, her heels clicking against the polished floor with an air of authority. She threw a glance over her shoulder at me, her lips curling with something between pride and amusement.

“You’re lucky I’ve been here so many times,” she whispered. “Otherwise, we’d be wandering around until someone threw us out.”

I muttered something under my breath, but the truth was, she moved with the kind of confidence that kept people from asking questions. The universe had thrown us a bone with the timing on this, but I couldn’t escape the uneasy feeling that settled over me when I thought about Costa’s enforcers lurking not far off.

How long had his men been keeping tabs on us? Were they here to cause a problem, or just to keep a watchful eye?

Lana picked up speed ahead, and I followed close behind, my shoulders tense as I scanned every doorway we passed. She turned a corner and paused in front of an ornate door. “I hope it’s not locked,” She murmured, testing the knob. She let out a small sound of victory as the door swung open, then she slipped inside, pulling me behind her.

Lucky Lana.

I couldn’t stop the thought from drifting through my mind. Not just tonight, but every damn time.

She’d killed Richard and walked free. Even now, with Damian Costa’s shadow hanging over us, she had the gall to chew her lip, tilt her chin, and act like she had the whole board mapped out while the rest of us were still trying to find the pieces. Some people carved their fate with their own two hands, others stumbled into fortune, but Lana Blackwell? She bent the world to her will without ever admitting she was doing it, and that terrified me as much as it drew me in.

The office smelled of leather and old paper, the kind of room designed to look impressive but not lived in. Heavy curtains muffled the sounds of the party, and the walls leaned in around the shelves of books and perfectly aligned degrees framed in mahogany.

Lana crossed to the desk, her movements precise and purposeful. The social polish was gone. She was all business.

I shut the door behind us, my pulse steadying in the hush. For the first time that night, we weren’t on display.

“Fuck,” Lana hissed, her fingers stilling on the keyboard. “It’s password protected.”

I turned, giving her a flat look. “Obviously. What kind of lawyer wouldn’t have password protection on his computer?”

She huffed, visibly flustered. “I don’t know! Let me think. Maybe his wife’s birthday?”

Lana bent in front of the computer like it was a riddle she could brute-force her way through. The screen blinked red, and she clicked her tongue.

Wrong.

She tried another combination, muttering something about a yacht, then hissed as the warning popped up again.

“Damn it.”

I let my gaze roam, desperately searching for anything to grab ahold of. Diplomas lined the walls, but the framed photographs on the credenza caught my eye.

The dog.

That damn beagle, Douglas, posing in the yard, by the fireplace, even with a ridiculous birthday hat on. Half a dozen pictures of the mutt, and not a single one of Byres’ family.

“I’ve only got one more try before we’re locked out,” Lana muttered, urgency in her voice.

“Try the dog’s name,” I said.

She turned, brows raised. “Seriously?”

“Trust me.”

She rolled her eyes but typed it anyway. The screen chimed, and the desktop bloomed open.

Lana froze. “Well, that’s pathetic.” Then, under her breath: “Who the hell names their dog Douglas, anyway? Whatever happened to Buddy or Rex?”