Chapter 15 Savannah
Savannah
The footsteps outside my door are wrong. Too light. Too slow. Not Juan. Not a guard. My stomach drops before my brain catches up, and my blood goes cold like someone poured ice straight into my veins.
Gabriel changes instantly. His whole body goes still. His hand slides behind him, quiet and practiced, and I see the flash of steel. He pulls a gun from his waistband.
I don’t breathe.
He raises one finger. Silent. Then he moves. Not toward the door. Toward me. He grips my wrist and pulls me back fast, positioning me behind him, turning my body so my back hits the wall hard. My spine jolts. My teeth click. The air leaves my lungs in a small sound I swallow instantly.
The shadow under the door shifts again. A pause. Then a soft click.
The lock.
Someone is touching the lock.
My body reacts violently. My lungs seize. My skin goes ice cold. My brain flashes bleach and metal and a door I could not open, and the sound of someone laughing while I begged. I clamp my hand over my mouth before anything escapes.
Gabriel leans in so close his mouth brushes my ear. “Breathe,” he whispers. “Follow my rhythm.”
I cannot. My throat is closing.
He doesn’t repeat it. He squeezes my wrist once, firm.
The door handle moves. Slowly. Someone is trying to make it quiet. Gabriel tilts his head, listening. His gun is raised now, pointed at the door.
The handle turns fully.
The door opens.
Just a crack. A sliver of darkness. A man slips in. Black clothes. Face half covered. Gloves. His eyes sweep the room fast, then his gaze lands on me for half a second and I feel it.
I am the target.
Gabriel fires.
The sound is deafening in the small room. It punches through my skull, rattles my ribs, makes my ears ring like glass breaking inside my head. The man jerks back, slammed by the impact, but he doesn’t drop. He stumbles into the hallway.
Another man appears instantly, bigger, trying to push inside. Gabriel fires again. A sharp curse. A wet sound. Blood sprays against the door frame. I clamp my eyes shut for one second. When I open them, Gabriel is already moving.
He grabs me hard. He yanks me toward the bedroom door. “Move,” he snaps.
My legs obey before my mind catches up.
He shoves me into the bedroom. The lock clicks. He locks it from the inside. Then he drags a chair against the door, fast and efficient, like he rehearsed this nightmare.
* * *
My heart is pounding so hard it hurts. My hands shake. My skin buzzes like electricity is trapped under it. I hear chaos outside the bedroom. Footsteps. More footsteps. A shout. Another gunshot. Yelling in Spanish.
My stomach twists.
Gabriel’s men. Gabriel’s security.
But the voice that cuts through makes my blood freeze.
Not Spanish.
Italian.
A sharp, urgent Italian shout in the hallway.
My breath catches. Alliance. Here. Why would Alliance be here. My mind scrambles. Cassio’s men were escorted out. Cassio would not.
Cassio.
A crash. Something slams against the sitting room door. Then again. They are trying to break in. My knees go weak. I press my hands against my ears like I can block it out. The sound is not the worst part. The worst part is my body remembering.
This is it. This is the moment the door opens.
Gabriel turns to me. His eyes are dark, lethal, focused. “Stay behind me,” he says.
My throat tightens. “Who is it.”
His jaw flexes. “Someone stupid.”
Another slam. Harder. The chair at the bedroom door rattles. My breath comes fast. My body shakes so hard my teeth click again. Gabriel reaches out and grips the side of my face with one hand, forcing my eyes onto him. “Look at me,” he orders.
I look. I have to.
His voice is low and absolute. “You are not going back to that.”
My throat closes. Tears burn. He doesn’t let them fall. He presses his forehead to mine for half a second, heat and pressure, a command that says stay here, stay now, stay alive. Then he steps away like it costs him.
He moves to the bedroom window, throws the curtain aside, looks out. His face tightens.
“Fuck,” he mutters.
Then he moves fast. He grabs me again, pulling me toward the closet.
“What,” I whisper.
He shoves the closet door open. It’s deep. Dark. He pushes me inside. “Stay,” he says.
My heart slams. “No.”
He grabs my chin. His voice is steel. “Tell me yes.”
My mouth opens. My mind screams no. My body screams hide. I whisper, “Yes.”
He nods once, then he does something that makes my stomach drop harder than any threat. He slides his ring off. The heavy gold ring. He presses it into my palm. My fingers curl around it instinctively.
“What,” I start.
His voice drops. “If they take you, you keep that.”
My blood turns to ice. “They won’t,” I whisper.
His eyes go black. “They will try.”
My chest tightens so hard it feels like it might crack. He leans in close, mouth brushing my ear. “If they get through, you don’t scream. You stay alive. You hear me.”
My throat closes. My eyes flood. He grips my wrist hard. “You stay alive,” he repeats.
I nod because I cannot speak.
He closes the closet door.
Darkness swallows me. I am breathing hard. I can taste panic, metal on my tongue, bile at the back of my throat. I press my hand over my mouth again and try to be silent.
I hear everything through the thin wood.
The sitting room door finally breaks.
A crash. Men rush in. Shouting. Gunshots. A body hits something heavy. Then Gabriel’s voice, cold and commanding. “On your knees.”
Another voice, rough and strained, laughs. “You married a whore,” the man spits.
The word hits me like a slap. Whore. Spoiled. Ruined. My skin crawls. My stomach flips. Old shame rises.
Gabriel’s voice goes so low it becomes terrifying. “One more word, and I’ll cut out your tongue and feed it to your friends.”
The man laughs again, then coughs. Wet. Blood. I squeeze Gabriel’s ring so hard it digs into my skin.
The closet door jerks.
My lungs stop.
A hand grabs the edge and yanks it open. Light floods in.
A face appears. Not Gabriel. Not Juan. A man I don’t recognize. Cartel. Eyes wide. Frantic. Blood smeared on his cheek. For one second I think he is here to save me, then I see what is behind him.
Another man.
Bigger. Black clothes. Mask.
His eyes lock on me.
My body goes rigid. My mind flashes bleach again. The masked man lunges. I try to move but my legs don’t work. He grabs my arm and yanks, hard, pain shooting up my shoulder. I make a sound, small, before I can stop it. He clamps a hand over my mouth instantly and the world tilts.
I’m pulled out of the closet like a doll. My bare feet scrape the floor. The masked man drags me backward toward the bedroom window.
My stomach drops. No. No, no, no.
I see the curtain moving. I see the window open. Cold air rushes in like a slap. Below, darkness. A rope hangs outside. A planned exit.
This is not random.
This is a mission.
My body starts fighting now. Wild. I kick. I twist. I claw at his arm. He curses and tightens his grip, yanking me harder. My mouth is covered. I cannot scream.
I remember Gabriel’s words.
Don’t scream. Stay alive.
My chest heaves. Tears streak down my face. I clutch the ring in my fist hard, like it’s the only proof I exist.
A gunshot cracks. The masked man jerks. His grip loosens for half a second. I twist my head and bite his hand, hard. He roars and releases my mouth. Air rushes in and I suck it like it’s life itself. I open my mouth to scream.
A second masked hand clamps over it from behind.
Another attacker.
Two of them.
They lift me. My feet leave the ground. I thrash. My nails scratch skin. Someone grunts. Someone hits me in the ribs and pain explodes. My breath whooshes out. My body goes weak for one second.
That is all they need.
They shove me toward the window. My head hits the frame and stars burst behind my eyes. I feel myself tipping into the cold air. I feel the rope brush my shoulder. I feel the drop.
Then Gabriel’s voice tears through the room. “GET YOUR HANDS OFF HER.”
The hand on my mouth rips away. Gunfire erupts. The room becomes noise and smoke and chaos. The attacker holding me jerks violently. His grip loosens. I fall. Not out the window. To the floor. Hard.
My elbows slam. My ribs scream. I curl instinctively, gasping. I see boots. I see blood. I see a man collapse near the window, Blood spreading across his chest.
I see Gabriel.
He moves faster than my eyes can track. He grabs one attacker by the throat and slams him into the wall. The man chokes, clawing at Gabriel’s wrist. Gabriel doesn’t even look at him.
He looks at me.
His eyes meet mine and I see it. Pure fury. Pure fear. His voice is low and lethal. “Move to me.”
I try. My body shakes. My ribs hurt too much. I crawl. My hands slip in blood, warm and sticky and real. I reach him and he crouches, one arm around me, pulling me in tight. My face presses into his chest. His heart is pounding hard, fast.
The attacker he slammed to the wall spits blood and laughs weakly. “You think you stopped it,” he coughs. “You didn’t.”
Gabriel’s grip tightens around me. The attacker’s eyes flick to my hand, to the ring, and his smile widens through blood. “She keeps trophies,” he rasps.
Gabriel’s head snaps up. “What.”
The attacker coughs again. “A ring,” he wheezes. “A message.”
My stomach drops. I look down. My fist is still clenched. I open my fingers slowly. Gabriel’s ring sits in my palm, gold and heavy, smeared with blood now.
Gabriel’s gaze locks on it. His face goes still in a way that terrifies me, because I recognize it.
This is the quiet that comes right before slaughter.
Juan bursts into the room. “Jefe. Compound’s clear,” he says fast. “Two dead. One got away.”
My blood turns to ice.
Gabriel’s eyes cut to Juan. “Lock everything,” he orders. Juan nods and disappears again.
Gabriel looks back down at me. His voice is quiet. Too quiet. “You’re bleeding,” he says.
I blink and look down. There is blood on my arm, on my shirt, on my hands. I don’t know whose. I don’t know if I am hurt. My body feels numb.
Gabriel’s hand cups the back of my head, firm, possessive. “Stay with me.”
I nod, trembling.
My eyes drift back to the window. The rope is still there, swinging slightly in the cold air, a planned escape path left behind like a promise. They knew where my room was. They knew the window. They knew the guard pattern.
Inside information.
A traitor.
My stomach twists. “They knew,” I whisper.
Gabriel’s jaw flexes. “Yes.”
I look up at him. My voice is barely there. “Was it Cassio.”
The words taste like betrayal.
Gabriel’s eyes go cold. He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t deny it either.
* * *
He stands, lifting me with him like I weigh nothing.
His arm locks around me and he carries me out of the room, down the hall, past men cleaning blood off the floor, past guards with guns drawn, past whispers that choke off the moment I pass.
Gabriel pushes into another room, a safer room, a room with more locks, more cameras, more control.
He sets me down on a chair, then kneels in front of me.
His hands lift to my ribs carefully and my breath catches. He stops instantly. “Tell me yes,” he says quietly.
My lips tremble. “Yes.”
He checks me anyway, gently. A cut on my elbow. A bruise forming on my ribs.
Gabriel’s thumb brushes the edge of the ring still in my hand. His voice drops. “They wanted you alive.”
My stomach drops. “Why,” I whisper.
Gabriel’s eyes lift to mine, dark and lethal. “Because a dead bride starts a war,” he says. “But a stolen bride controls one.”
My throat closes. My skin goes ice cold.
Because that means this is not over.
This was only the first attempt.
And someone got away.
* * *
Dear Diary,
They came for me. Not to kill me. To take me.
They knew my room. They knew the window.
Don’t scream. Stay alive.
I can feel the cold coming off the glass.
It leaks into the room and into my skin.
My stomach twists so hard it makes me want to fold in half.
I don’t move. I barely breathe.
I keep waiting for the door to click.
For the handle to turn.
Don’t scream. Stay alive.