Page 59 of Blake

Shit. She’d just called him Marcus. That was the name of her abusive foster father. Fury surged through him as he aimed his gun at Marcus, every fiber of his being screaming out for justice.

“I hate you,” she said woozily to the man, mustering up all the energy she had left to spit in his face.

That’s my girl.

Still standing in the shadows, Blake drew the gun out of the back of his jeans with practiced stealth. When he had the gun pointed right at Marcus’ head, he spoke out, his voice deep and commanding.

"Cover your ears, Savvy," he ordered.

Savannah and Marcus turned toward him in surprise.

In an instant, Marcus whipped out a gun of his own and pressed it to Savannah's temple, his eyes gleaming with malice.

"Come on, hero. Shoot me if you dare," Marcus taunted, tightening his grip on Savannah. “The second I see that fingermove, mine goes too. And then your little ginger-haired freak ends up all over this wall.”

Blake cursed under his breath. He hadn’t anticipated this. Should’ve waited for his brothers to bring back up. He was hot-headed, always too quick to act. Too brave for his own good. Just like Savannah.

As he tried to figure out his next move, he saw something in Savannah's eyes—trust and determination. She nodded ever so slightly, encouraging him to take the shot despite the risk. His eyes locked with her defiant gaze. He tried to communicate everything to her in that one look—anger, love, understanding.

He let out a slow breath. Sweat dripped down his temple. Everything in him screamed to pull the trigger and end Marcus for good.

"Do it," Savannah whispered, her faith in him unwavering.

Killing Marcus would be easy. He was pretty sure he could pull the trigger much faster than that old bastard. But he couldn’t risk Savvy getting hurt. Not in a million years. And something else was making him hesitate, too. He wanted Marcus to suffer, to pay for his crimes. The fucker deserved more than a quick death.

"What's the matter?" Marcus asked, his voice mocking and cruel. "Don't have the guts. That's good. Savvy here deserves to be with a real man. Someone like me, who's not afraid to do what he wants to—"

Blake couldn’t listen to another word of it. He clenched his jaw, and then, dropped his gaze for a moment. He noticed Marcus drop his guard just for a moment, and then, in a flash of speed, he threw his pistol, hard, straight at the bastard's head. It hit his forehead with a sickening crack, and Blake was already on him, smacking the gun clean out of his hand, then kicking him in the balls, knocking him to his knees. If there’s one thing that guy deserved, it was a damaged dick.

"Stay down," Blake growled at the writhing man, grabbing his weapon and training it on him.

"Blake . . ." Savannah murmured, her voice weak from the ordeal.

"Shh, it's okay now, Savvy," Blake reassured her, putting his arms around her. "I've got you, babygirl."

As he carefully untied the ropes binding her wrists, he couldn't help but notice the bruises and marks marring her delicate skin. Fury bubbled inside him, but he pushed it down, focusing on freeing her. "Are you hurt anywhere else?" he asked, concern lacing his voice.

"Nothing major," she replied, trying to sound brave despite the tears pooling in her eyes. “I’m not really sure what happened. I went to see Marcus . . . and I ended up here.”

“He drugged you,” said Blake through gritted teeth. “We’ll talk more about that later. Right now, just let me hold you, darling. I need to keep you warm.”

Sirens wailed in the distance, growing closer by the second. Relief washed over Blake as he helped Savannah to her feet, supporting her weight against him.

Moments later, the door burst open, and two DEA agents swept through with Jax and Nash. they swiftly handcuffed Marcus, checked his pockets and pulled out a bottle of clear liquid that was almost certainly GBH.

"Good work, Blake," Nash said, nodding in approval. “You could have killed the man, but you didn’t. It’s better this way.”

Blake nodded. “Yeah.”

"We've got this now, buddy," said Jax, squeezing his shoulder. “Go look after your girl.”

"Come on, my Little warrior," he murmured, helping her walk towards a new beginning. "Let's speak to the police and then get you home."

“Back to the safehouse, Daddy?” she replied groggily.

“No, pumpkin,” he replied. “Home.”

"I'm so sorry," Savannah whispered into his ear, her breath warm against his skin. “I was trying to help. I thought if I got some more information then we could bring down this whole—”

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