Chapter Ten
Savannah
This house feels like a cage. A really nice, ridiculously expensive cage, but a cage all the same. After pacing the guest room for what feels like hours, I finally decide I can’t just sit here anymore. If Rylan won’t tell me what’s going on then I’ll find out for myself.
I peek out into the hallway. Empty. The whole place feels deserted, except for the faint whir of something mechanical in the distance. Maybe central air, maybe the hidden gears of the universe turning against me. Either way, it’s time to move.
The house is eerily quiet as I make my way down the hall, my bare feet silent against the polished wood floors. I’m not entirely sure what I’m looking for, but this place has secrets—Rylan has secrets. And I’m done playing the clueless guest.
As I walk down the long hallway, I try opening a few doors, each one locked, which only serves to heighten my curiosity.
Eventually, I come across one that opens to a study. It’s all dark wood and leather, the kind of place you’d expect to find a billionaire plotting world domination. I step inside, and my gaze darts to the large desk in the center of the room. The papers scattered across it look promising.
I sift through the stack of papers quickly, my fingers trembling as I flip through each sheet, my heart pounding like a drum in my chest. Most of it appears to be typical boring documents—business contracts, property deeds, nothing that appears suspicious. Frustration creeps in, but just as I am about to give up, my eye catches on a single piece of paper near the bottom of the pile with a name scrawled hastily across the top: Declan Doyle. And beneath it, in bold underlined letters, are the chilling words: Castillo Family Territory.
My breath catches. Declan. That must be Rylan’s brother. And the Castillos? That name feels important, but I can’t quite place it. I’m staring at the page, my mind racing to piece it all together, the words blurring slightly as my pulse thunders in my ears. Just as the weight of realization sets begins to press down around me, a gravelly voice breaks through the silence, sharp and unexpected, sending a burst of adrenaline coursing through my veins.
“Find anything interesting?”
I whirl around, my heart in my throat. Rylan stands in the doorway, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
I whirl around, clutching the paper to my chest. Rylan stands in the doorway, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable.
“Who are the Castillos?” I demand, holding up the paper like an accusation.
He steps into the room, shutting the door behind him. “That’s none of your business.”
“None of my business?” I snap, anger rising in my chest. “You’ve been keeping me here against my will, refusing to explain anything, and you expect me to just sit quietly and trust you?”
“Yes,” he says, his tone sharp. “Because it’s for your own good.”
I glare at him, my fear morphing into fury. “You don’t get to decide what’s good for me, Rylan. Who are they? And what do they have to do with me?”
His jaw tightens, and for a moment, he looks like he might explode. Then he sighs, dragging a hand through his hair. “The Castillos are . . . complicated. Let’s leave it at that.”
“No.” I take a step closer, my voice firm. “We’re not leaving it at that. Tell me the truth, or I’ll walk out that door right now.”
“You won’t make it ten feet,” he says, his tone harsh. “And if you do, they’ll find you. Is that what you want?”
His words slap me with the intensity of them, and for a moment, I can’t breathe. “They’ll find me?” I repeat; my voice shakes. “What does that mean, Rylan? Who’s after me?”
He hesitates, his jaw tightening visibly, the muscles clenching and releasing as if he’s physically holding back the words. I can see the war in his eyes, the struggle between telling me the truth and keeping me in the dark. Finally, he sighs, sinking into the chair behind the desk.
“Vinny Castillo,” he says quietly. “The guy who attacked you. He . . . wasn’t just some creep. He was part of the Castillo Famiglia. Now he’s dead.”
I stare at him, my mind reeling. “Dead? What—what does that have to do with me?”
“They think we killed him,” he says, his voice grim. “They think you had something to do with it. And they’re not the kind of people who ask questions first.”
His words settle over me like a suffocating blanket. “That’s why I’m here,” I say slowly, piecing it together.
“To keep you safe,” he confirms. “The Castillos don’t know where you are, and I intend to keep it that way. But you need to stay here, Savannah. No more snooping, no more questions. Just . . . stay.”
I meet his gaze, fear and fury warring in my chest. “And what about you? What’s your plan? Just sit here and wait for them to find us?”
“No,” he says, his voice like steel. “I’m going to end this. But I can’t do that if I’m worrying about you running off and getting yourself killed.”
I can’t bring myself to fully trust him. Yet, there’s something in his voice, in the way his jaw clenches and his eyes darken, that makes me believe he’ll do whatever it takes to keep me safe.
For now, that will have to be enough.