Chapter 25 Savannah
Savannah
The morning feels like a countdown. Light slips through the curtains, as if it’s just another day.
Pretending man did not sneak into my bedroom and leave a note on my pillow.
The blankets are warm against my skin, but my body is still listening, still scanning, still waiting for the soft sound of footsteps that don’t belong.
Gabriel is still here. His arm is heavy across my waist, his body warm behind me, the mattress dipped with his weight.
He did not sleep much. I know because I did not sleep much.
Every time I drifted, my mind tried to drag me somewhere else, and every time it tried, Gabriel’s hand tightened.
He whispered my name once, just once, and my body remembered where it was. Here. Not there.
I inhale slowly. The air smells like him, wood and soap with that faint edge of gun oil that never leaves his skin no matter how clean he is.
Safety and danger tangled together. I turn my head slightly and see Gabriel’s eyes open, already watching me like he has been awake longer than I have, like he has been guarding the very air I breathe.
His hand slides up my stomach, slow and steady. His palm is warm and heavy and real. He pauses.
“Tell me if you’re okay,” he murmurs.
I stare at the ceiling. The plaster has tiny cracks near the corner. My throat burns. “I’m scared,” I admit.
Gabriel’s jaw flexes once. “I know,” he says.
He shifts behind me and kisses the back of my shoulder, a slow press that feels like a reminder and a claim at the same time. His mouth can be gentle when it wants to be, and that gentleness hits me harder than the violence ever did.
“Today we are making a statement,” he says.
Statement. Like my body is still a battlefield. I have to walk into a room full of men and prove I am not breakable. My fingers curl into the blanket. The fabric is soft, but it feels like it’s covering a bruise.
“What if I freeze,” I whisper.
Gabriel’s hand tightens once. “You won’t,” he says.
A laugh almost escapes, but it turns into a broken exhale instead. “You don’t know that,” I whisper.
Gabriel rolls me so I’m facing him. His palm cups my cheek, and his thumb presses along my jaw like he is keeping me anchored. He looks into my eyes like he can cut through every fog in my head.
“If you freeze,” he says, “I handle it.”
Fear spikes anyway because those words have meant different things in my life.
“But if you want to speak,” he continues, “you will.”
My throat tightens. “Men like Cassio don’t listen,” I whisper.
Gabriel’s mouth hardens. “They listen to power,” he says. His eyes narrow slightly like he’s looking at something in me I keep trying to hide. “And you have power.”
The words hit wrong at first. Power used to mean men. Guns. Violence. Control. Hands touching me whenever they wanted. But he’s looking at me like power means survival. Choice. Voice.
My chest aches, so I reach for something practical to keep from drowning. “What do I wear,” I ask.
It’s stupid. It’s not stupid. What you wear decides how they see you, and how they see you decides how they treat you. Gabriel’s gaze flickers, he understands immediately. He sits up and reaches into the nightstand drawer, then pulls out a small velvet box. My breath catches.
“What is that,” I whisper.
He sets it in my palm. “Open it,” he says.
My fingers shake as I lift the lid. Inside is jewelry. A simple chain with a pendant, heavy gold that catches the morning light and shimmers.
“What does it mean,” I whisper.
“It’s my crest,” he says.
My chest tightens. His gaze stays steady on me as he adds, quieter, “It says you belong with me by your own choice, not by fear.”
My throat burns. I swallow hard. “What if they think it’s a leash,” I whisper.
Gabriel’s jaw flexes. “Let them,” he says.
He stands and moves to the closet like it’s time to prepare for war, because it is. He opens it and the clothes inside are arranged neatly, too many options. My heart starts racing.
Gabriel sees it instantly. He steps back to me and takes my hands, firm.
“Look at me,” he orders softly.
I look.
“In,” he says.
I inhale. The air catches in my chest like I’m breathing through needles.
“Out.”
I exhale.
Again.
In.
Out.
My body steadies enough to think again. Gabriel’s voice stays low.
“Two rules,” he says. “You choose, and you’re comfortable enough to breathe.”
“Okay,” I whisper.
He reaches into the closet and pulls out two dresses, one black and one deep green. Both are simple and long. He holds them up.
“Which one,” he asks.
My eyes go to the green. It looks like forests, like something alive in the dark.
“The green,” I whisper.
Gabriel nods. “And shoes,” he adds. “Flat or heel.”
My stomach twists. Heels feel like vulnerability, like being slowed down on purpose. He sees my face and doesn’t argue.
“Flat,” I whisper.
“Flat,” he repeats.
He sets everything on the bed, then turns away slightly so he isn’t watching me, so he isn’t owning the moment. “Tell me if you need help,” he says quietly.
The respect in that sentence hits harder than it should. Like my chest doesn’t know what to do with it.
“I can do it,” I whisper.
Gabriel nods once. “I know,” he says.
I dress slowly. My hands still shake, but I dress. Fabric slides over bruised ribs and my breath catches sharp. I pause, breathe through it, then keep going. I clasp the pendant around my neck last. It settles against my chest like a weight, a reminder, a warning, a choice.
* * *
When I step out of the bedroom, the compound is awake in a different way. More men. More weapons. Less conversation. Juan stands at the end of the hall. He looks at me once, assessing, then nods. Approval. I’m holding myself together well enough to be seen.
Luca appears from the stairwell, face sharp, phone in hand. “Jefe,” he says, handing it to Gabriel.
Gabriel reads whatever is on the screen. His jaw clenches. He looks at Luca.
“What,” Gabriel says.
“Cassio moved the sit down,” Luca tells him. “Earlier. And he added guests.”
My stomach drops. Guests means more eyes, more judgment, more risk. Gabriel’s voice stays calm.
“Who,” he asks.
Luca’s gaze flickers briefly toward me, then back. “Romano Bellini. He’ll be there.”
My skin goes cold. Romano. The name from Viktor’s mouth. The name that wants Cassio’s seat. Gabriel’s hand closes around mine immediately.
“He’s showing up,” Gabriel says quietly.
Luca nods. “Like he wants to be seen.”
Gabriel’s mouth tightens. “Good,” he says. “Then he can’t hide.”
My heart is pounding. “Is he dangerous,” I whisper.
Gabriel turns to me, eyes holding mine. “Yes,” he says, honest. Then he adds lower, “But he’s not the most dangerous person in that room.”
My breath catches. He means himself. Or Cassio. Or both.
“You will not be alone with Cassio today,” Gabriel tells me.
I swallow. “Why,” I whisper, even though I already know. Cassio likes control. Cassio sees women as leverage.
“Because he’ll test you,” Gabriel says. “And I won’t allow it.”
My throat tightens. “What kind of test,” I whisper.
“He’ll offer you protection,” Gabriel says. “And he’ll watch your reaction.”
My fingers tighten around his. “I don’t want protection,” I whisper.
“I know,” he says, eyes gone dark. “So you’re going to say no.”
My breath catches. “Just like that.”
“Just like that,” he repeats. “And then you stop talking.”
I swallow hard. “What if he pushes.”
“Then I push back,” Gabriel says.
* * *
We move through the compound toward the vehicles.
Two cars. More men than usual. I slide into the back seat with Gabriel beside me, Juan in the front, Luca in the second car.
The gate opens and the outside world feels too open, too many places for shadows.
Gabriel’s hand rests on my thigh again, warm and heavy.
“One more thing,” he says.
I glance at him. “What.”
“You don’t flinch for Romano,” Gabriel tells me.
My stomach drops. “How do you know I will.”
“Because he’ll try to speak like he knows you,” Gabriel says.
My throat tightens. He turns his head slightly toward me, voice softer. “If you feel yourself leaving, touch the pendant.”
I swallow. The pendant presses cool against my skin. Real. Present.
“Okay,” I whisper.
* * *
We arrive at the Alliance meeting location.
Old building. Old money. Italian guards line the entrance like statues.
Their gaze goes to me first, then to Gabriel, then back to me like they’re measuring and judging.
I keep my chin level. My throat is tight, but I walk.
Gabriel walks beside me, not in front and not behind. Beside. That matters.
Inside, the room is already full. Smoke. Leather. Cigars. Cologne. Power. Cassio stands at the head like always. He looks at me, then at Gabriel, gaze sharp and unforgiving, but there’s something else too. Curiosity. He wants to see if I’m still silent. He wants to see if I’ll obey him today.
Then I see Romano. He’s leaning near the side table, smiling like he’s attending a wedding. Tall. Italian. Beautiful in a dangerous way. His eyes flick to my pendant, then to my ring, then to my face. His smile widens by half a degree like he just found a pressure point.
My chest tightens. My body tries to shrink, tries to hide. I touch the pendant. Cold metal. Real. Present. Gabriel’s hand squeezes mine once.
Cassio speaks, his voice cutting through the room. “Sit.”
Not a request. An order.
Gabriel doesn’t react. He guides me to the chair beside him. Right next to the head. A statement. The men’s gazes track the motion. I sit. My palms are damp. My ribs ache. My breath stays controlled.
Cassio starts speaking about routes, territory, security. Words I half understand. Power language. Then Cassio turns his attention directly to me and the room quiets instantly.
“Savannah,” he says.
My stomach flips. My body wants to freeze. I touch the pendant again and lift my eyes.
“Yes,” I say quietly.
Cassio’s gaze sharpens. He hears the shake, but he also hears that I spoke at all. His eyes flick to the bruising near my collarbone.
“Your house was breached,” he states.
“Yes,” I answer.
Cassio’s jaw tightens. “And you’re still alive.”
“Yes,” I repeat.
He watches me for a long beat, then says what I expected.
“I’m assigning you protection.”
My throat tightens. The room holds its breath. Gabriel’s hand stays on my thigh, steady. I inhale slowly, look at Cassio, and say it.
“No.”
Cassio’s eyes narrow instantly. Romano’s smile flickers like he’s pleased. Cassio’s voice sharpens.
“That wasn’t a request.”
My heart pounds. My palms sweat. My body tries to disappear. I touch the pendant again, swallow, and repeat it.
“No,” I say. “I don’t want it.”
Cassio’s gaze turns dangerous. He leans forward slightly.
“You don’t want safety,” he says coldly. “You want pride.”
Before my fear can swallow me, Gabriel speaks. His voice is calm and deadly.
“She said no.”
Cassio’s eyes snap to him. “She’s Alliance blood.”
“She’s my wife,” Gabriel replies.
The room goes quiet. Romano shifts like he’s enjoying the show. Cassio’s jaw flexes.
“You’re making her a problem.”
Gabriel’s tone stays even. “No. I’m making her a person.”
Silence. Thick. Cassio looks at me again.
“You’re not a child,” Cassio says. “So don’t act like one.”
My throat burns. I want to say something sharp. I want to say I wasn’t a child when the Russians took me. But I don’t.
“I’m choosing,” I say.
Romano’s smile tightens. Cassio’s eyes narrow.
Then Romano steps in, voice smooth, eyes on me. “Choice is admirable, especially for a woman with such a complicated history.”
My blood turns to ice. My chest tightens. My body wants to fold. I touch the pendant. Gabriel’s hand tightens on my thigh.
Romano keeps smiling. “It must be difficult to trust,” he says softly, “after what happened to you.”
He wants me to flinch. He wants me to shrink. He wants Cassio to see weakness.
Gabriel speaks before I can. “You don’t speak about my wife.”
Romano’s smile widens. “I’m only concerned.”
“No,” Gabriel says.
Something in me sparks anyway because I’m tired. Tired of being talked about like I’m not in the room. Tired of men using my past like it’s a tool. I touch the pendant again, lift my eyes to Romano, and let my voice come out quiet and shaking but sharp.
“You don’t know my history,” I say.
Romano’s smile flickers.
“You don’t get to use it,” I add.
The room goes still. Cassio’s gaze sharpens. Romano leans back like he’s amused, but his eyes are colder now.
Cassio cuts through it. “Enough.”
The meeting moves on, but the room doesn’t relax, because now they’ve seen it. I didn’t disappear. I spoke. Romano didn’t like it.
When the meeting ends, chairs scrape and men stand. Romano moves like he might pass behind me, too close. My skin crawls. Gabriel shifts, blocking him without making a scene. Romano’s smile turns sharp as he leans just enough to poison the air near me.
“You’re brave today,” he murmurs. “Let’s see how brave you are in church.”
My stomach drops. I barely move my mouth when I answer.
“Don’t talk to me.”
Romano’s smile falters for half a second, then he steps away.
Gabriel’s hand closes around mine and guides me out. Outside, the air hits my lungs like freedom and threat at the same time. We get into the SUV. The door shuts with a safe click, and I exhale, shaky.
Gabriel looks at me. “You did good,” he says.
“I’m shaking,” I whisper.
“Shake,” he says. “And still choose.”
My throat tightens. I nod. Fear can exist, and I can still decide what I do with my body.
The car rolls forward. The Alliance building fades behind us, but I can still feel Romano’s eyes like fingerprints. I can still hear Cassio’s voice. Church. My stomach twists because I know this isn’t just a ceremony. It’s a trap, and I’m the one standing under the lights.
We’re already married. Paper signed, ring on my finger.
This isn’t about God. It’s about men.
It’s about making the family see it.
* * *
Dear Diary,
I chose today.
I chose and I told men No.
They tried to tear me down.
To reach inside my head.
To make me fear.
I spoke in a room full of men.
And I did not disappear.
My hands are still shaking.
But I chose anyway.
I chose to be seen.
And I did not let them own it.