Chapter 19 Savannah
Savannah
The door handle moves slowly, careful, like whoever is touching it knows exactly how to be quiet. My whole body locks up. My lungs stop working. I don’t breathe. I don’t blink. I don’t move. Then my brain catches up and screams no, not again, not again.
Gabriel’s voice is outside somewhere, shouting orders. Gunfire pops. Men yell. Metal screams. Chaos. And I am inside this SUV with tinted windows and locks, with my heart trying to crawl out of my throat.
The handle turns again, harder. The lock holds. A shadow slides across the glass. A face leans toward the window like it’s trying to see through the tint. I cannot see them, but I feel them.
My fingers clamp around the panic device so tight it bites into my palm. I remember his words. Don’t open the door for anyone but me. My breath comes in fast, shallow pulls, and my ribs ache with every inhale.
The handle jerks again. Someone curses in Spanish. Not one I recognize. The door rattles, then a knock hits the glass. A fist. Three times. My body flinches so hard my teeth click. My hand shoots up to my mouth and I clamp it shut to hold in the sound.
The fist hits again, harder, and then a voice pushes through the window, muffled. “Senora, open.”
I don’t answer.
The voice changes, sharper. “Open the door or I break the window.” My breath catches. My fingers find the panic device. The button.
I stare at the device like it’s a cliff edge. Gabriel said it pings Juan and Luca. He did not say what it does out here. He did not say how fast they can get to me if someone pulls me out.
The voice outside hisses again. “You think he’s coming back for you?”
My blood turns to ice.
I press my forehead to the seat for one second and force the rhythm. In. Out. In. Out. My body is shaking so hard my shoulders twitch, but I can still think. Barely.
The door handle stops. Silence. My heart keeps pounding anyway, loud enough I swear they can hear it through the glass.
Then I hear a soft thud at the rear hatch, like someone climbed onto the back. My stomach drops. No. No, no, no. My eyes dart to the side windows. Still dark. Still tinted. I cannot see anything. I can only hear.
Footsteps on metal. A scrape. Then a sharp tap, tap, tap against the glass. Not a fist. Something harder. A tool.
They are going to break it.
My fingers slam down on the button. I press it hard.
Click.
For one second nothing happens, and my brain screams that I did it wrong, that I did it too late. Then a high, piercing alarm shrieks inside the car. Just loud enough to slice my nerves open. The sound fills the SUV.
My body flinches and my hands clamp over my ears, but the alarm keeps shrieking. The shadow outside the window jerks back. I hear a curse, louder now, then another. Feet thud as someone scrambles off the back hatch. The door handle jerks again, frantic now, like the alarm spooked them.
Good. Run. Leave. Get away from me.
The door rattles hard. There is a sharp crack. The window. The glass splinters at the corner and my breath stops. I shrink back against the seat, shaking so hard my teeth chatter. The alarm is still screaming.
The corner of the window spiderwebs. A gloved hand punches through the fractured spot. Gloved fingers grasp for the lock. My stomach turns. No.
My eyes catch on the seat belt latch. Metal. Hard. Heavy. Something real. I rip it free with shaking hands and I swing.
The metal slams into the gloved hand. Hard.
A grunt. The hand jerks back. I swing again.
The glove tears. I swing again, and the alarm shrieks and my ribs scream and I don’t care.
I am not thinking about pain. I am thinking about the window and the rope and hands over my mouth and being carried like I am not a person.
I swing again and the hand withdraws fully. For half a second I think it worked.
Then a gunshot cracks outside.
The world freezes. The alarm still screams, but the hand doesn’t come back. I hear a heavy body hit the ground, a thud that sounds final. Then Gabriel’s voice cuts through everything, low and lethal.
“Touch her and die.”
* * *
The alarm stops suddenly. Silence.
My chest heaves. I cannot breathe.
The driver’s side door opens and I jolt, my whole body snapping tight again.
Then Gabriel’s face appears at the side window.
His eyes are black, furious and terrified.
He yanks the door open and slides in fast, filling the space with heat and smoke and violence.
Gunpowder clings to him. Cold air clings to him. Blood clings to him.
He grips my shoulders hard. “Are you hurt?” he demands.
My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. Just shaking. My hands are sticky with blood, someone else’s. He looks at my hands and his jaw locks.
Then he drags me into him. He wraps me against his chest like he is trying to fuse me to his ribs so no one can peel me off again. His heartbeat slams against my cheek, fast.
His mouth is near my ear. “Breathe,” he orders. “Stay with me.”
I try. My lungs seize. I shake harder, and my body starts doing that thing again. Leaving. Floating. Disappearing. it’s safer in the fog. No feeling. No sound.
Gabriel’s grip tightens until it hurts. “Stay,” he snaps.
His voice cuts through the fog like a slap. I inhale sharply. Air tears into my lungs. I gasp, then I sob once, small and broken. I hate it.
Gabriel doesn’t. He holds me tighter. His hand slides into my hair at the nape of my neck. His voice drops, quieter now but still lethal. “You hit the button,” he says.
I nod against his chest. My voice is barely there. “Yes.”
His chest rises on a sharp inhale. “Good,” he says.
Then he pulls back just enough to see my face. His eyes search me like he is counting pieces. “You fought,” he says.
I blink. My throat tightens. “I didn’t want them to take me.”
Gabriel’s jaw flexes. He nods once like that sentence is sacred. “They won’t,” he says.
His head turns sharply toward the open door. Juan’s voice is near. “Jefe. Russian is down. One cartel man is down. One ran.”
One ran. Again. My blood turns to ice.
Gabriel’s eyes cut to Juan. “Who ran?” Gabriel demands.
Juan hesitates. “Didn’t see the face.”
Gabriel’s mouth tightens. Of course. Because it’s never the one you want. it’s always the one who brings the message back.
Gabriel looks back at me. His hand cups my cheek.
He kisses my forehead, quick and hard. Then he pulls back and his voice sharpens.
“You’re going to look at me,” he says. “And you’re going to listen.”
I nod shakily.
“This was not the plan,” he says. “Which means Carson is not the brain.”
My stomach twists. “Who is?”
His eyes go cold. “A handler. A Russian.”
My breath catches.
“Carson is a tool,” he continues. “Someone else is directing him.”
My fingers curl around the shredded seat belt metal still in my lap. My hand is shaking. “So they’re still coming.”
Gabriel’s gaze holds mine. “Yes,” he says. Then his voice drops lower. “But now they know you fight back.”
My throat tightens. My eyes burn. I hate the tears. I hate the fear. But I feel something else underneath it, a spark.
Gabriel sees it. His mouth tightens in something that almost looks like satisfaction. “That,” he murmurs, “is what I need.”
Need, like I am a weapon too. It makes my stomach twist, but it also makes me feel less helpless.
Gabriel’s phone buzzes. He glances down. Luca. He answers. “What,” he snaps.
Luca’s voice is tight through the speaker. “Carson’s burned car wasn’t his. It was staged.”
Gabriel’s eyes narrow. “What do you mean.”
“Carson is alive,” Luca replies. “And he just hit an Alliance storage route, two minutes ago.”
My blood goes cold. Alliance. Cassio.
Gabriel ends the call without another word. He looks at me, voice low. “This is a message.”
“To who,” I whisper.
His eyes go lethal. “To Cassio.”
He grips my face with both hands, firm. “And to you.”
My breath stutters. “To me?”
“Yes,” he says. “They want you to believe you’re the reason everyone bleeds.”
My throat closes, because that is exactly what my brain already believes.
“You are not the reason,” Gabriel says. “You are the excuse.”
The words hit my chest like a punch. He keeps his voice quiet but deadly. “And I’m done letting them use you like that.”
He releases me, shifts in the seat, and checks the lock with a hard glance like the door itself offended him. Then he looks at Juan through the open door.
“Change routes,” he orders. “We’re going to the Alliance line.”
Juan’s eyes widen slightly. “Now?”
Gabriel’s jaw flexes. “Now.”
I stare at him. My voice cracks. “Gabriel, Cassio will—”
“I don’t care,” he cuts in. His eyes snap to mine again. “What I care about is ending this before they take you.”
My breath shakes. “I’m scared.”
He pauses for one beat, then nods once like he respects the honesty. “Good,” he says. “Stay scared. It keeps you sharp.”
He leans in, mouth near my ear. “But you’re not alone,” he adds. “Not anymore.”
* * *
The SUV starts moving again. Engines hum.
Streetlights streak across the windows. My hands still shake and my ribs still ache, but I am holding the panic device now like it’s mine.
Somewhere outside, a man is running with information.
Somewhere else, Cassio is going to feel the hit.
And the treaty is about to be tested again, harder, closer and more personal.
* * *
Dear Diary
I feel like I am standing in the center of a circle.
And every gun is pointed at me.
I did not freeze this time.
I did not disappear.
I stayed.
And that might be the first terrifying thing I have ever done that feels like it belongs to me.