Page 17 of Blake

She couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. With all her information gone, in someone else’s hands, she no longer had any hope. Either someone else was about to break open her story before her, or someone wanted to bury everything she’d discovered.

She needed help. But who could she trust?

Was Blake a friend or a foe? After all, he knew where she lived. He knew her apartment would be empty tonight, so he could have gotten one of his associates to ransack the place. Wait—hadhedone this?

But . . . why would he do it? She’d paid him. She’d ended their arrangement. What did he have to gain from destroying her apartment like this? Besides, if he actually was a Daddy Dom, would he really call her a “bitch baby”?

So, if he didn’t do this . . . could he help her? She bit her lip as she weighed the risks of asking Blake for help against the potential consequences of facing this threat alone. If she wanted to survive long enough to expose the truth and find Mia, she needed allies—people who were just as committed to fighting the darkness as she was. But could she trust them not to betray her?

"Only one way to find out," Savannah whispered, steeling herself for what was to come.

She took her phone out of her pocket and dialled Paladin Security’s number.

“Paladin Security, Blake Marks speaking,” said a sleepy-voiced Blake.

"Hey, it's . . . it's Savannah," she stammered into her phone, her grip tightening on Mr. Whiskers. "I need your help."

"Everything okay?" Blake's gruff voice offered a sense of safety she desperately needed.

"Someone broke into my apartment," she admitted, her voice cracking. "I don't know what to do."

“Are you there now?”

“Yes.”

“Are you alone?”

"Yes."

"You're sure?" His words were quick, sharp.

“Yes, I think so—”

"Stay put. Lock the door. I'm coming," he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"Wait, Blake—" she protested, but he had already hung up.

"Guess I made my choice," she sighed, feeling both relief and trepidation. She locked her door, just as she had been told,and did her best to sweep up some glass and tidy some of the wreckage of her apartment, although it made little difference.

Ten minutes or so later, there was a knock at the door.

“It’s Blake,” called out a deep voice. “You in there, Savannah?”

“Uh-huh,” she called out quietly. “I’m coming.”

She peered through her door’s peephole just to be sure it really was Blake. He was standing there in the same black t-shirt and jeans he’d been wearing earlier, but his clothes looked disheveled now. She saw him running his hand through his hair and yawning. Clearly, she’d just woken him. She hoped he wouldn’t be mad at her.

When she opened the door, she was surprised to see Blake grinning at her.

"Miss me already, Savvy?"

She couldn’t help chuckling. “Yeah, my apartment is fine really. This was all just a ruse.” Her smile faded quickly though as she stepped aside and let Blake assess the damage.

Blake's broad frame filled the entryway as his blue eyes scanned the apartment. "Let's get you out of here," he growled, his entire demeanor changing. "I have a safehouse we can use."

"A safehouse? Are you sure, Blake? Is that really necessary?" Savannah hesitated, torn between the desire for safety and the stubborn need for independence. “Doesn’t someone else need that? I’m sure this whole thing will . . . blow over.”

"Babygirl, you are stubborn as a mule," he replied, his gaze locking onto hers with unwavering determination. "Come on. I won't let anyone hurt you, Savannah. Have you got a go-bag?"

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