Chapter 27
SAVANNAH
The safe house is beautiful, with exposed beams and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking acres of forest, a stone fireplace, and furniture that looks expensive and uncomfortable. There's a chef's kitchen, where surprisingly, Marco makes most of our meals, and luxury everywhere I look.
It makes me feel like I'm losing my mind.
Part of me misses Romeo so much that I feel like I can’t breathe, and part of me is so angry with him for sending me away that I can’t see straight.
I feel like I’m being managed, tucked away for my own safety.
Giulia is the only real humanity I have to hold onto here—the guards treat me like a package that needs to be kept safe until delivery.
Which, I suppose, is exactly what I am.
Romeo’s call helps, for about a day. And then the anger creeps back in.
He’s doing things, making moves against Thad and my father, taking all the evidence I helped compile and using it to bring them down…
if he doesn’t lose his patience and just kill Thad outright.
I’m terrified of what Romeo will have to do in order to keep me safe, in order to have what he wants and what I’ve admitted now that I want too—and it’s easier to be angry than to be afraid.
Especially when I’m so fucking tired of being afraid.
I feel like so much of my good Southern girl polish has been worn off from this.
I cursed yesterday. I was so frustrated.
I do it in my head a lot more, now. I’m not as horrified as I should be by what is happening around me, and I’m also thoroughly horrified by it.
But if I was as upset as I should be, I’d go home. I wouldn’t be a part of this.
Except that would mean marrying Thad.
I’m caught between a monster that might kill me and a monster that loves me, and I know which one I want to choose. I can’t help but wonder what it makes me that I want to choose one of them at all.
Giulia finds me in the library that afternoon, as I drift through the shelves looking at the insane collection of books.
There are leather-bound first editions and copies of books so old that they should be in a much more carefully controlled library, but the fact that I get to touch them makes it hard to be upset about that.
She brings me tea, looking more than a little worried as she sets it down. “Has Romeo called?”
I shake my head, then think better of lying. “Yes, but I haven’t been answering.”
“He’s worried about you. He needs you.” Giulia lets out a slow breath. "He calls me every few hours asking if you're okay, if you're eating, if you're—"
"If I'm behaving?" The bitterness in my voice surprises even me. "If I'm being a good girl and staying where he put me?"
Giulia's expression shifts, becomes more serious. "That's not fair."
"Isn't it?" I set the mug down harder than I intend, and tea sloshes over the rim.
"He made a decision about my life without consulting me.
He decided I needed to be sent away, and he just—did it.
He didn't ask what I wanted. He didn't consider that maybe I'd rather face the danger with him than be locked away like some princess in a tower. "
"He's trying to protect you—"
“I feel trapped! Again!” I run my hand through my hair, feeling like I’m going a little mad. “I should have told him no. You’re the one who told me to set boundaries.”
“In this case, you did the right thing by listening.” Giulia sits down, looking tired.
“Our family has these houses because we know there might be times when we have to use them. I wouldn’t like being tucked away like this any more than you do, but if my father or Romeo told me to go, I would.
Sometimes it’s better to let them handle it.
Especially since all of this is… it’s new to you.
” She looks at me sympathetically. “I was raised around this. You weren’t. I understand it’s an adjustment.”
That feels like an understatement. “I just want things to go back to normal.”
“They will. There will be a new normal, eventually.” Giulia gives me that sympathetic smile again. “If you want to be with him, Savannah, just be patient. He’ll handle this, and then the two of you can move forward together.”
“He’s doing terrible things.”
“He was raised to.” Giulia reaches out and takes my hand. "I'm not saying it's right. I'm not saying it’s easy to accept, either. I'm saying—he's trying. In his broken, fucked-up way, he's trying to be better than what he was raised to be."
I think about that phone call two nights ago. The way Romeo's voice broke when he admitted he was losing himself. The way he cried—actually cried—and told me I was the only thing that made him human.
"I love him," I whisper. "But I don't know if I can live like this. Always being protected, always being managed, always being the thing that needs to be kept safe rather than the person who gets to make choices."
“You’ll have more choices when this is done. Just talk to him. Be there for him. Lean on each other, and you’ll get through this. But you can't just ignore his calls and expect him to figure it out on his own."
She's right. I know she's right. But I'm still so angry.
I spend the afternoon trying to work on my paper, but I can't focus. It’s hard to think about ancient civilizations when my own life feels like it's crumbling.
My phone buzzes with a text, and I grab it automatically, expecting Romeo.
It's not Romeo.
The number is blocked, but I know who it is before I even open the message.
Unknown: You chose wrong.
My blood runs cold. Another text comes through immediately—a photo this time. It takes a moment for my brain to process what I'm seeing.
It’s Romeo, in what looks like a warehouse. Standing over a man on his knees. The man's face is bloody, terrified. And Romeo—
Romeo has a gun pressed to the back of the man's head.
The next photo shows the aftermath. There’s blood everywhere. So much blood. I drop the phone like it burned me, but the photos are real. Romeo did that. Romeo killed that man.
I knew what he was. I knew what his family does. I knew he was dangerous. But knowing it abstractly and seeing it—seeing the way he stands over that man like it's nothing, like taking a life is just another task to complete—
I run to the bathroom and throw up.
—
Giulia finds me twenty minutes later, sitting on the bathroom floor with my phone clutched in my hand.
"Savannah? What's wrong? Are you—" She sees my face and immediately kneels beside me. "What happened?"
I can't speak. I just hand her the phone and watch her face as she scrolls through the messages, through the photos. I see her expression shift from concern to fury.
"That fucking—" She stops herself, takes a breath. "This is Thad. This is him trying to manipulate you."
"I know." My voice sounds distant. "But the photos are real, aren't they?"
Giulia is quiet for a moment. “I’m sure they are.”
"Who was he?" I ask. "The man Romeo killed. Who was he?"
"I don't know. But Savannah, Romeo doesn't just kill people randomly. If he did this, there was a reason."
"Does the reason matter?" I can hear the desperation in my voice. "Does it matter why he killed someone when the result is the same? When I'm bringing a child into a world where their father is a murderer?"
"Romeo is trying to protect you—"
"By becoming a monster?" I'm crying now, and I can't stop.
"That phone call two nights ago—he told me he was losing himself.
He told me he was becoming empty and cold and ruthless again.
And I told him to remember who he is with me.
But what if this is who he is? What if the man I fell in love with was just—just a mask, and this is the truth underneath? "
Giulia pulls me close, and I sob against her shoulder.
"He loves you," she says quietly. "I've never seen my brother love anyone the way he loves you. And yes, he's dangerous. Yes, he's capable of terrible things. But he's also capable of being gentle. Of being kind. Of being the man you fell in love with."
"How do I know which one is real?"
"They're both real." She pulls back and looks at me. "That's what you have to understand. He's trying to figure out how to be both without destroying himself or you in the process."
I think about the photos and the blood. "I don't know if I'm strong enough for this," I whisper. "I don't know if I can live in a world where the man I love is capable of—of that."
"Then you need to decide." Giulia's voice is firm, and I can hear the sister coming out, the girl who loves her brother and won’t let anyone hurt him…
not even me. "You need to decide if you can accept all of him, or if you need to walk away.
But you can't keep existing in this limbo, loving him but resenting what he is. "
She's right. I know she's right. But the thought of walking away, of raising this baby alone, of never seeing Romeo again—
I can't breathe.
I go lie down, and an hour later, I start cramping. Light cramping at first, and then it gets worse. At first, I think it's just stress—just my body reacting to the emotional turmoil of the past few hours. Then it happens again. Stronger this time. Then again, painful enough to make me cry out.
I sit up slowly, and that's when I feel wetness between my legs. I look down and see blood on the sheets.
"No." The word comes out as a whisper. "No, no, no—"
Another cramp, this one so strong it doubles me over. I cry out, and somewhere in the house I hear footsteps running.
"Giulia!" I scream her name, clutching my stomach. "Giulia, something's wrong!"
She bursts through the door, takes one look at me and the blood, and her face goes white. "Marco!" she shouts. "Marco, we need to go NOW!"
The cramping is constant now, waves of pain that make it hard to think or breathe. I'm barely pregnant. I could easily lose the baby. I could—
I start to sob, terrified suddenly that I’m going to lose something I wasn’t even sure I wanted. "Giulia, the baby—"
"I know, I know." She helps me stand, supporting my weight. "We're going to get you to a hospital. You're going to be okay."
Marco appears in the doorway. "Get the car," Giulia orders. "Call ahead to the hospital. And call Romeo—"
"No." The word comes out stronger than I expected. "Don't call him. Not yet. Not until—"
Another cramp cuts off my words, and I scream.
"Savannah, he needs to know—"
"Please." I'm begging now, clutching Giulia's arm. "Please, just—just get me to the hospital first. Make sure the baby is okay. Then call him. I can't—I can't handle him right now. I can't—" I don't finish the sentence because the pain is too intense, too overwhelming.
Marco is already on the phone, barking orders in Italian. The world blurs around me. Pain. Fear. The metallic taste of blood in my mouth from biting my lip. "Stay with me," Giulia is saying, holding my hand. "Stay with me, Savannah. You're going to be okay. The baby is going to be okay."
I think about Romeo, alone in his apartment.
I think about the photos Thad sent—the blood, the violence.
I think about the choice I made. The world I chose to enter.
And I think about the baby inside me, fighting to survive in a body that's breaking down from stress and fear and the weight of impossible decisions.
"I'm sorry," I whisper, and I don't know if I'm talking to the baby or to Romeo or to myself. "I'm so sorry."
The car speeds through the darkness, and all I can do is hold on and pray that we're not too late. That I haven't destroyed everything by choosing love in a world drowning in violence.
The cramping intensifies, and I scream again. Giulia's hand tightens around mine. "Almost there," she whispers. "Almost there."
But I don't know if almost is going to be good enough.