16. SAVANNAH
Chapter sixteen
SAVANNAH
E scaping from The Haven while Blake, Jax, and Nash were out was surprisingly easy. She and Rosie had concocted a plan where Rosie distracted the guard by telling him she’d spilled her juice near some electrical cables and was scared there would be a fire.
Savannah, who had taken off her frilly outfit, simply crept out of the door the moment he turned his back.
And now she was free. Properly free. Out on the streets of Chicago, being the big brave girl she was.
The evening air was cool on her face, a stark contrast to the warmth she had just left behind. Headlights streaked by as she walked, and there was a little rain too, but she had no money for a cab. It didn’t matter, anyway. She lived in a much rougher neighborhood than this. She was perfectly capable of walking through the city at night. Besides, it was only eight o’clock. Not exactly witching hour.
She headed for her old foster home. She had run away from it so many times that she had learned the streets around the house like the back of her hand. When she reached the familiar house, its looming silhouette sent a shiver down Savannah's spine.
It stood on a worn-out street corner, its peeling paint and broken shutters a testament to years of neglect. The yard was overgrown with weeds, and the dim glow from a single, flickering porch light cast eerie shadows on the cracked walkway leading to the front door.
Adrenaline coursed through Savannah’s veins.
This was it—her chance to confront her past, and maybe even gather information about the trafficking ring at the same time. She swallowed hard, steeling herself for what lay ahead.
"Here goes nothing," she whispered, raising a trembling hand to knock on the door.
For a moment, she paused. Blake’s stern face surfaced in her mind. But just this evening, he had promised her that she could be useful when the time was right. And the time was right.
Right?
She remembered to put her phone on record then her knuckles rapped against the wood, each tap echoing like a drumbeat in her ears. Waiting for Marcus to answer, Savannah's mind raced with memories of her time spent in this house, the torment she and Mia had endured. But she couldn't let fear hold her back now. She was here for answers, and she refused to leave until she got them.
"Come on, you bastard," she muttered under her breath, her pulse quickening as the door creaked open.
"Hello, Savannah!" Marcus said, his gaze trailing down her body as he took in her crop top and hotpants. His voice was sickeningly sweet. "What a surprise."
Savannah swallowed away the bile that rose in her throat.
Marcus had changed a lot since she’d known him as a kid. His skin was gray now and looked paper-thin. He had huge dark circles under his eyes and some kind of sore over his mouth. He wore a dressing gown over a tank top and jeans. Jeans, which Savannah noticed, were unbuttoned. Ew.
"Hi, Marcus," she replied, forcing a casual tone while trying to hide her disgust. "Long time, no see."
"Indeed," he agreed, stepping aside to let her in as she barged past him. "Come on in."
Savannah hesitated for a moment before crossing the threshold, her heart pounding in her chest. She was walking into the lion's den, but she couldn't back down now.
Marcus's sinister smile sent shivers down Savannah's spine as she stepped inside the dimly lit house. The walls seemed to close in on her, but she refused to let the familiar dread take hold. Instead, she focused on her purpose: finding answers.
“No foster kids around tonight?” she asked.
“Nope. Stopped doing that,” he replied gruffly.
“Busy doing other stuff now, eh?” asked Savannah, her tone pointed.
Marcus ignored her question. "Would you like some tea?" he asked, shuffling over to the kettle.
"Sure," Savannah responded, her tone guarded. She watched him closely as he moved to the kitchen, preparing the cups. Was this frail old man act for real?
A thousand questions swirled around in her mind, but she knew she had to choose them carefully.
"Your visit is quite unexpected, Savannah," Marcus said casually, handing her a steaming cup. "What brings you by, after all these years?"
"Can't a girl check in on her old foster father?" she retorted, forcing a smile and taking the cup from him.
"Of course," he replied, taking a seat across from her. "But I imagine there's more to it than that."
"Maybe I heard some rumors about your business dealings and wanted to see for myself if they were true," Savannah suggested, trying to appear nonchalant.
"Rumors, you say?" Marcus leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing slightly. "And what have you heard?"
“Do you remember Mia?” she asked suddenly.
"Ah yes," he sighed, feigning disappointment. "Poor Mia. Such a lovely girl. Shame about her . . . disappearance.”
Savannah gritted her teeth. “You heard about it then?”
Marcus nodded. “Oh, yes. She’d just moved back in with me when it happened.”
“She had?”
“Yes, I seem to remember it was her birthday or something.” He put a bony finger to his lips.
“I didn’t know they put her back with you. I’m surprised they did that after the report we filed with the police.”
Marcus gave her a stony look. “That silly little thing? The cops never took that seriously.” His eyes never left her face. "Well, if there's nothing else, I really should be getting back to work."
“And what is your work?” asked Savannah, blowing on her tea to cool it and taking another sip. It’s not like she wanted to drink it—she was just doing anything she could not to scream at the man. If she screamed at him, she had no chance of getting the information she was after.
Marcus sneered at her. “You’ve come here with a lot of questions, haven’t you, girlie? It better not be true what they say about you.”
“And what do they say about me?”
“That you’re a snoop,” he spat.
Savannah laughed. “You know nothing about who I am, Marcus. You never did.” She set down her cup and stood up. "Thank you for the tea."
"Anytime, my dear," he replied, that sinister smile still plastered on his face. "You're always welcome here."
Savannah's heart pounded in her chest, her panic rising as the room began to spin. She tried to focus on Marcus, but the effort made her dizzy. Her thoughts swirled like leaves caught in a whirlwind. She needed to get out of here.
“Which . . . way . . . is . . . the door?” she stammered.
With a sudden burst of adrenaline, she lurched to her feet, intending to bolt for the door. But as she stood, a wave of dizziness crashed over her, and her legs betrayed her.
"Wh-what's happening?" she gasped, grabbing onto the table for support.
Marcus smirked, his sinister smile widening. "Oh, Savannah," he taunted. "You were always such easy prey."
Her vision blurred, and her strength waned. As unconsciousness claimed her, Savannah's last coherent thought was a desperate plea for help—a silent call for her Daddy Dom to come to her rescue.