Chapter 27 Savannah
Savannah
Iwake up to a silence that feels too quiet, not the normal quiet of a house resting, but the kind of quiet that means everyone is waiting. My eyes open slowly. For a second my brain doesn’t know where I am, and then I feel Gabriel’s arm around me, heavy and warm, and my chest loosens by a fraction.
I inhale. The sheets smell new, fresh detergent. I blink and stare at the ceiling. My ribs still ache when I breathe too deep, and my throat feels raw. Gabriel’s breathing is steady behind me, but I can tell he’s awake. He always is before I am, like he refuses to let me wake up alone.
His voice is low. “You slept,” he says.
“Some,” I whisper.
His hand tightens once against my waist. “Enough,” he says.
I want to believe him. I do believe him, and that scares me. I turn slightly so I can see his face. He’s watching me, like he can tell when I’m drifting into memories. His gaze drops to my pendant. He kisses my forehead, then sits up and reaches for his phone on the nightstand.
I tense instantly. My shoulders rise. My stomach tightens, because phones mean updates, and updates mean danger. Gabriel sees it. He pauses and doesn’t answer yet. He looks at me.
“Do you want to hear it now,” he asks quietly, “or after you eat?”
My throat tightens. I stare at his phone like it can bite me. “After,” I whisper.
Gabriel nods immediately. He sets it down like it’s nothing, then stands. “Come,” he says.
My body wants to stay under the blanket forever, but I remember yesterday. I remember Cassio’s eyes. I remember Romano’s smile. If I can do that, I can walk to the kitchen. I sit up slowly and my ribs protest. I inhale through it, then slide out of bed.
The floor is cold against my feet and my brain flares awake, alert, like the cold is a warning. Gabriel’s hand steadies my elbow for half a second, then he steps back like he’s letting me move on my own.
* * *
We walk down the hall. No staff. No chatter.
Just quiet. I notice two extra men in the corridor corners, different faces, different posture.
One has a scar near his eyebrow that looks new.
One keeps his hand too close to his belt like he’s afraid the shadows will jump out and grab him. My stomach tightens.
Gabriel notices my eyes flick. “New rotation,” he says calmly.
“Because of me,” I whisper.
His gaze turns hard. “Because of them,” he corrects.
I nod. It shouldn’t matter, but it does, because I don’t want to be a burden.
* * *
The kitchen smells like coffee and toast, normal smells, heat, butter, that tiny burn of dark roast. My chest loosens by a fraction. Gabriel moves like he knows what I need before I say it. He plates food, eggs, toast, fruit, nothing heavy, nothing that sits like a rock, and sets it in front of me.
Then he sits across from me, not beside. Across means I can see him, and he can see me. He watches until I take the first bite. My mouth is dry. My stomach is tight. But I chew anyway. I eat anyway. I swallow and take another bite.
Then my hands start shaking again for no reason at all, just aftershock. My fork clinks softly against the plate, metal on ceramic, a small sound that feels too loud. I try to stop it. I can’t. My fingers won’t listen. My body is still fighting a war that already happened.
Gabriel doesn’t tell me to calm down. He doesn’t tell me to breathe like I’m a child. He just reaches across the table and places his hand over mine, warm and heavy, his palm covering my knuckles. He holds my hand still for me. The shaking slows.
He watches my eyes. “You’re thinking,” he says.
“I’m remembering,” I whisper.
His gaze darkens. “About Viktor.”
I nod. “And the note.”
Gabriel’s jaw flexes. “That note is dead,” he says.
“But the words aren’t,” I whisper.
Gabriel leans forward slightly. “They’re ink,” he says. “Nothing more.”
My throat tightens. “They live in my body,” I whisper, and it’s true. They live in my ribs when I breathe. They live in my throat when I swallow. They live in the space behind my eyes when I close them.
Gabriel goes still, then his voice drops. “Then we put something louder in your body,” he says.
I blink. “What,” I whisper.
He doesn’t answer like it’s sexual. He answers like it’s strategy. “Routine,” he says. “Safety habits. Choices. Sleep.” He pauses. “And pleasure,” he adds quietly.
My cheeks heat. I look down.
Gabriel’s hand squeezes mine once. “Don’t hide from that word,” he says calmly.
“I’m not hiding,” I whisper.
I am, but I say it anyway.
Gabriel doesn’t push. He just nods, then finally picks up his phone. He glances at the screen. His posture tightens. My stomach drops.
“What,” I whisper.
Gabriel’s eyes lift to mine, his voice staying calm. “Romano made a move,” he says.
My chest tightens. “What move,” I whisper.
Gabriel sets the phone down and turns the screen so I can see.
I stare. A photo. Blurry. Looks like a church, looks like men in suits.
My throat closes. It’s me, or meant to be me.
A woman in green. My exact dress. My exact pendant shape, even if it’s not clear, grainy, like someone snapped it from a distance and then smeared it on purpose.
But the message isn’t blurry. The message is sharp. It’s being circulated, a rumor wrapped in imagery. My stomach rolls. I taste bile under my tongue.
“He’s using your history,” Gabriel says.
My hands start shaking again. “I told him he doesn’t get to,” I start, but my voice breaks.
Gabriel’s hand closes over mine again. “Look at me,” he orders softly.
I force my eyes up. His gaze is steel. “He’s doing it because it works on men like Cassio,” Gabriel says. “It makes them want to control you.”
My throat tightens. “I don’t want to be controlled,” I whisper.
Gabriel’s voice goes colder. “Then we make you untouchable,” he says.
Untouchable. That word makes my stomach twist, because in the past nothing made me untouchable, not screaming, not praying, not being a child.
I swallow. “How,” I whisper.
Gabriel holds my gaze. “We control the church first,” he says.
My breath catches. “What does that mean,” I whisper.
He speaks like he’s mapping out a plan. “It means the ceremony won’t be on Cassio’s terms, and it won’t be on Romano’s terms.”
I blink. “Whose terms,” I whisper.
“Ours,” he says, and my heart pounds harder. “Ours” in this world usually means men deciding together, but Gabriel’s eyes don’t say that. They say me and you.
“We do a private meeting with the priest,” Gabriel continues. “We lock the guest list. We set the security perimeter.” He pauses. “And you make one statement.”
My throat tightens. “I don’t want to speak in front of everyone,” I whisper.
“You don’t have to give a speech,” he says. “One sentence.”
One sentence. I can do one sentence. My stomach twists. “What sentence,” I whisper.
Gabriel’s eyes narrow slightly, thoughtful. Then he says, “You choose it.”
My breath catches. I stare at him. My throat burns. Tears prick, not because I’m sad, but because I’m overwhelmed by being asked, by being treated like my words have weight.
I swallow them down. “Okay,” I whisper.
Gabriel nods once, then stands. “We’re going to train,” he says.
“Train,” I echo.
He nods. “Not you,” he corrects. “Your nervous system.”
My throat tightens. “How.”
He points to the pendant. “You touch it when you feel yourself leaving. You breathe. You say your sentence in your head.”
I swallow. “And if I still panic.”
His voice is calm. “Then you panic beside me,” he says.
I exhale shakily. He reaches out and cups my cheek gently, kisses my forehead again, then says, quiet but absolute, “You’re the reason I don’t break.”
That sentence hits in a place I don’t have words for. Being someone’s reason feels like pressure, and also like belonging. I don’t know which one to fear more.
Gabriel’s phone buzzes again. He glances at it, then looks at me. “Eat one more bite,” he says.
I obey, not because he ordered, but because he’s right. My body needs fuel for war. I take one more bite and swallow.
Then I whisper, “Do you think Cassio will believe Romano.”
Gabriel’s jaw flexes. “Cassio believes whatever keeps him in control,” he says.
My chest tightens. “So what happens,” I whisper.
Gabriel’s eyes go dark. “Cassio will try to control you harder.”
My stomach drops. “Like sending an enforcer.”
He nods once. “Yes.”
I swallow. “And you’ll stop him.”
Gabriel’s voice turns flat. “I’ll stop anyone.”
I nod slowly. My hands still shake, but my spine feels a fraction straighter, because yesterday I said no and today Romano is still trying. Which means my no mattered. It made him move. It made him nervous.
I look down at my pendant and touch it. Then I whisper, mostly to myself, “One sentence.”
Gabriel’s gaze holds mine. “Yes,” he says.
One sentence. And if they want a stage, then I’ll give them a moment they can’t erase.
* * *
Dear Diary,
He took me like he owned the air in my lungs.
My breath was his permission.
He invaded my body.
He invaded my mind.
And he made me believe.
But I get choices now.
I can speak.
I choose, because choosing makes it mine.
Not his. Not theirs.
So I will speak, and I will say it like I mean it.