Edgar leaves without another word, and the moment the door closes behind him, I collapse. My legs just give out, and Romeo catches me, pulls me against his chest. I'm sobbing so hard I can barely breathe.
"I've got you," he says, over and over. "I've got you. You're safe. I've got you."
But I'm not crying because I'm scared. I'm crying because I finally understand the truth. My father doesn't love me. Maybe he never did. Maybe I was always just a tool to him, a means to an end, a way to secure power and social status.
"He knew," I manage to say through my sobs. "He knew what Thad did, and he didn't care. He wanted me to marry him anyway. He wanted me to learn to manage being beaten."
Romeo's arms tighten around me, and I can feel the rage radiating from him in waves. "He's never touching you again. I promise you that. He's never getting near you again."
"What are we going to do?" I pull back to look at him, and my face is wet with tears. "He's not going to help us. And Thad?—"
"We handle it ourselves." Romeo's voice is hard, absolute. "No more trying to play by their rules. No more hoping your father will see reason. We do this my way now."
25
SAVANNAH
Iinsist on going back to class on Monday morning, and Romeo looks at me like I've suggested walking into a war zone unarmed.
"Absolutely not." He's standing in the kitchen of his apartment—our apartment now, I suppose, since I haven't been back to mine in days—and his arms are crossed over his chest. "It's not safe."
"I can't just hide here forever." I'm exhausted, and my voice comes out sharper than I intend. "I have papers to finish. I have classes. I have a life?—"
"You have people trying to hurt you." His voice is calm, but I can hear the fear underneath. "Your father. Whitmore?—"
I grip my coffee mug so hard my knuckles are white. "I'm not going to let them take everything from me. My education is the one thing that's mine. The one thing I've worked for that has nothing to do with family politics or arranged marriages or?—"
"Savannah." He moves closer, and his hands find my shoulders. "I understand. I do. But?—"
"Then let me go to class." I can feel tears threatening again. I've cried more in the past week than I have in years. "Please. Ineed this. I need to feel like I'm still me, like I'm still a person with goals and dreams and not just—not just collateral damage in everyone else's war."
The words hang between us, and I watch something shift in his expression. "Okay," he says finally. "But not alone."
That's how I end up walking across campus on a crisp October morning with two of Romeo's men flanking me like Secret Service agents. Marco is on my left, a tall, broad-shouldered man with a scar running through his left eyebrow. He’s built like a brick wall and is thoroughly frightening. Tony is on my right—shorter but somehow even more intimidating, with cold eyes that scan every face we pass.
I feel like a spectacle. Like everyone is staring. They probably are.
"This is ridiculous," I mutter as we approach the humanities building. "I look like I'm under arrest."
“You’re being protected,” Marco says flatly. “Ciresa’s orders.”
But I don't feel protected. I feel exposed and vulnerable. Like I'm wearing a sign that sayssomething is wrong with this girl's life.
Dr. Kouris does a double take when I walk into the seminar room with my bodyguards. They position themselves by the door, and I can see the other students whispering and staring, trying to figure out what's happening.
"Ms. Beauregard." Dr. Kouris's voice is carefully neutral. "Welcome back. We've missed you."
I take my usual seat and try to focus on the lecture, taking notes mechanically, but the words don't stick. My mind keeps drifting to my father's face when he slapped me. To Rebecca's bruised photographs. To the way Thad's eyes went cold when I told him I wouldn't marry him.
My phone buzzes in my bag, and I pull it out carefully.
Thad:I know you're in class. I can see you through the window.
The text is from an unknown number, but I know who it is. My hands start shaking so badly I almost drop the phone.
I look toward the windows—we're on the second floor, and they face the quad—but I can't see anyone. Just students walking between buildings, sitting on benches, living their normal lives.
Another buzz:Thad:You can't hide from me. Not with your criminal boyfriend's thugs. Not anywhere.
