I Gave Him His Freedom Novels & Stories

Even though I was frightened, I pulled out a tiny strength from the bottom of my heart and faced him, who had a face half covered by a golden mask. He said he will buy everything I want. I must tell him what I really want. The thing that I really wanted was not worth a penny. He can actually give it to me without spending his money. “F-Freedom, El. Freedom. That's what I want.” After those words were spoken, my tears followed and dropped on the floor between our feet. Both sides of his lips lifted, and that gave me hope that he might give me the freedom I asked for from him.

He just stared at me like I was not really standing there. I took a step forward. Tears started to sting my eyes. I said "John you are free now." His eyes did not seem harsh as before but they were still filled with confusion and a lot of distrust. "How can this be free?" he asked, wanting to know more about this thing called free. "Free”. What did that mean he thought and how was that possible for the thing, in question, which was supposed to be free.

Monica, you must have lost it. "Hey now, don't space out because I've taken out my fingers," he tapped my butt cheeks to gain my attention. "Though you defied me, you've also been such a good girl so it's only right I reward you," he said , his footsteps heading towards somewhere in the room. "Does that mean you'll let me go?" My voice sounded so relieved and elated. I wasn't sure if I'd ever be the same if I let this go on. "Why would I let my slave go?" He asked with a confused tone. "I'm just going to give you something you love even more than freedom," he sounded cheeky with his last statement. What did I love more than freedom?

His fingers dug into my skin, and I winced, but I refused to look away. “You don’t get it, do you?” he hissed. “There’s no freedom for you. Not now. Not ever. At least, not until I’m alive. The moment you walked into my world, you signed away any chance of escape. And you’re lucky—lucky—that it was me who got to you first. Do you even fucking realize what those men would’ve done to you?”

“Please… don’t.” He looked down at me. And I will never forget his expression. No anger. No guilt. No love. Just coldness, like I was nothing. “I’ve made my decision,” he said simply. “You’re free.” Free. What a cruel word. I didn’t want freedom. I wanted the mate bond. I wanted the man who once held me in his arms while telling me I was his whole world. I wanted the future I believed in. But he wasn’t done humiliating me.

He explains, shaking his head at my suggestion. “Then I know what I want,” I state, grabbing his hand. “Just say the words and it will be yours…” “I want you to be free,” I state without hesitation and his look turns to shock as the air around us shimmers and grows thick for just a moment before dissipating. “Why… Why would you do that?” He asks in shock as he pulls his hand from my grasp. “I figured you’d been trapped one way or another for your entire life and you deserved the chance to experience freedom for once” I explain, the faintest hint of a smile on my face.

"We can talk about that when the time comes." "I'm not asking for permission," I said quietly. "I'm telling you what's going to happen. This is the last thing I do for this family. The last sacrifice. After this, I'm done." He stood up slowly, and for a moment, I thought he might argue. Instead, he just nodded. "Okay. After this, you get your freedom. I promise." We both knew it was a lie. People like us didn't get freedom. But it was a pretty lie, and I held onto it.

They were no longer untouchable. “Freedom,” I whispered, leaning into him, accepting the truth I had tried so desperately to run away from for the past month. I was free of the Blackwoods, but I was now inextricably bound to the man who had just risked everything to give me a chance to do this with him.

My father had thought ruin was the ultimate punishment, but he had mistakenly given me the ultimate gift: the freedom to pursue my life without constraint. I reached out and pulled him back into a tight embrace, this time holding him just as firmly as he held me. I was finally free.

I did not stand at a window for two hours composing the words to hand a woman her freedom, and yet that was exactly what I'd been doing since the plane landed, running the sentences flat and clean in my head so that when the elevator opened I could say them without my voice betraying that each one was a knife going in. Because I'd worked it out, over Miami and over the Gulf and over the long silent drive I'd taken separately on purpose. I'd let her go once, in a Coconut Grove kitchen, because it was the kindest thing I'd ever done, and it had come nearer to killing me than any bullet ever had. And I'd understood, somewhere in those three days of a broken bag and a fading scent on my sheets,