Chapter Thirty-Nine
Rylan
The package from Declan feels heavier in my hands than it should, considering its contents. A couple of small handguns, a few knives in various styles, tranquilizer darts, and smoke bombs—just in case. It’s a stark reminder that the Castillo mess isn’t over, and until it is, I can’t let my guard down.
After loading the gear into the Range Rover, I swing by the market, because nothing says I’m totally into you like overpriced produce and a bottle of wine that cost more than my first car. I pick out the best ingredients for a fancy dinner—fresh herbs, hand-cut pasta, the works. Savannah deserves more than just a meal; she deserves an experience. The thought of her sitting at the table, her auburn hair catching the light, and her smile lighting up the entire room makes me grin like an idiot. I probably look like the poster child for "hopelessly smitten," but honestly, who cares? If this is what it takes to see her melt over a perfectly cooked carbonara, then consider me Gordon-freaking-Ramsay.
Everything feels different now. She’s not just someone I’m protecting—she’s someone who’s burrowed her way into my every thought, someone I can’t imagine my life without. It’s not just about keeping her safe anymore; it’s about keeping her, period.
Golden rays glow over the landscape on my drive through the coastal town, cascading through the windshield, but I barely notice. Savannah consumes my thoughts. I want this chaos to end. I want normalcy, quiet nights, and mornings where we don’t wake up fearing the worst. I’m ready to build a life with her, to leave the darkness of my family’s world behind.
The moment I pull up to the house, I can’t shake the feeling that something is off. The golden rays from the easy drive home have dipped below the horizon, and the windows are dark. I step inside while balancing the grocery bags on top of the box from Declan, and call out, “Savannah?” The only response is my own voice echoing through the empty house.
After setting all my supplies on the counter, I flick on the lights. The silence presses against my chest like a weight. “Savannah?” I call again, louder this time. Still nothing.
My pulse quickens as I move through the house, each step echoing louder than it should in the silence. Growing up in a mob family, learning how to clear a room is like a right of passage–right up there with your first suit and learning how to spot a lie. Living room, untouched. Office, exactly how we left it. Kitchen, not even a crumb out of place. Still, unease claws at me, making my chest tighten.
I stop by the box of supplies Declan sent me, yanking it open and grabbing the Glock he so casually included, because when you’re in hiding from a rival mafia family, a little firepower is as essential as milk and eggs. The weight of the gun in my hand steadies me, a reminder that while we’re lying low, we’re far from defenseless.
I take the stairs two at a time, my heart pounding like a war drum, every nerve on high alert. Each step feels heavier, every creak of the wood beneath my feet like a gunshot in the silence. My grip tightens on the handgun, and my jaw sets. If someone’s here—if they’ve managed to track us down—they’re about to learn the hard way I’m not just the guy who cooks fancy dinners and picks out expensive wine. I’m the guy who finishes what others are foolish enough to start.
Her bedroom looks undisturbed, exactly as we left it last night. The bed is unmade, the sheets still tangled from where we slept. Her clothes hang neatly in the closet, her shoes lined up so perfectly it’s borderline intimidating. Nothing is missing—not a single thing out of place. If she’d run, she would’ve taken something. Savannah’s not the type to go full spy movie and vanish without a trace.
I clench the gun tighter and mutter a curse under my breath as I head back downstairs. In the kitchen, I yank open the drawer where I keep a small stack of cash—just in case. It’s still there, untouched, the bills practically smirking at me like, Not what you’re looking for, huh? My stomach twists, cold and heavy, as the truth crashes over me: the only thing missing is Savannah.
“She wouldn’t leave,” I mutter, pacing the kitchen like a man two steps away from losing it. My mind scrambles for answers, desperate for anything that makes sense. Maybe she needed air. Maybe she went for a walk and lost track of time. But even as the thoughts form, I know better. Savannah wouldn’t step outside without telling me—not with everything going on. And after last night, after the way she looked at me like I was the only safe thing in her world? No, she wouldn’t just disappear. Something’s wrong—so, so wrong.
I grab my phone and text her.
Me
Where are you? Call me.
The message goes unread. My stomach churns as I call her number. It goes straight to voicemail. The knot in my chest tightens into a fist.
“Come on, Savannah,” I whisper, dialing again. Same result. My hands tremble as I scroll to Declan’s name and hit call.
“Rylan,” Declan answers, his tone already tinged with sarcasm. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Savannah’s missing,” I say, my voice sharp.
There’s a pause before Declan snorts. “Missing? Are you sure she didn’t just grow tired of your charming personality and bolt?”
“I’m serious,” I snap. “She’s gone. Her phone’s off, her stuff’s still here, and there’s no sign she left willingly.”
Declan’s tone shifts, the teasing edge replaced with a dangerous calm. “Alright. Tell me everything.”
I recount the details, my frustration boiling over as I pace the house. Declan listens in silence before finally speaking. “First step, calm the fuck down. Panicking won’t help either of you.”
“Calm down?” I snap, gripping the back of a chair until my knuckles turn white. “She could be in danger, Declan!”
“And if she is, you’ll be no good to her if you’re losing your shit,” he replies evenly. “Let me make some calls. Check with our contacts. If the Castillos have her, we’ll find out soon enough.”
“Wait,” I blurt, an idea forming. “I gave her a burner. It has Ty’s tracking app on it. Can you pull it up?”
Declan sighs, but I can hear him moving. “Give me a second.” The sound of typing fills the line before he speaks again. “Got it. Looks like her last ping was at the coastal airport about thirty minutes ago.”
“The airport?” I echo, dread curling in my stomach.
“Yeah,” Declan confirms. “Signal’s gone dark now. Whoever has her knew what they were doing. They must've destroyed the phone.”
I slump against the counter, my mind spinning. Savannah didn’t even know her phone had a tracker. Someone else does. Someone who planned this.
“If it’s the Castillos,” Declan continues, “they’re probably heading back into town. That’s about an hour-long flight.”
“Then we don’t have much time,” I say, steel hardening in my voice. “We need to move.”
Declan’s voice sharpens. “Rylan, don’t do anything stupid.”
“I’m going to get her back, and nothing’s going to stop me.”