Page 92 of Deadly Sweet

Looking down at my little angel in my arms, I swallow thickly, licking my lips as tears blur my vision.

She was pregnant. That man raped her and got her pregnant. Only for her to lose the one thing that kept her going when she was ready to give up.

My breathing picks up, panic rushing through me at the mere idea of losing my daughter.

I can’t imagine the pain she felt. All I want to do is run after her, to pull her into my arms, and tell her everything is going to be alright.

Only I can’t, and it won’t be. Not when it comes to that.

If I wasn’t on board with the kind of life she lives before, I sure as fuck would be now. I hope when the day comes and Savannah kills Corbin, we’re all there to watch the light drain from his eyes with the knowledge he lost—she won—and we’re going to take care of Savannah and give her the life she deserved, the life that was robbed from her.

How do I even start to put the broken pieces of my Omega back together? I don’t. I can’t. You can’t ever be whole again after everything she’s been through.

What we can do is each place a hand on the holes of her heart and pray we’re enough to keep the blood from seeping out.

She thanked me, thankedus, for saving her.

That on its own wrecked me.

If we really are the only reason she plans on staying on this earth after she seeks the revenge she’s looking for, then I’m going to make sure we don’t fail her.

Letting out a shaky breath, I walk back up to the bedroom—her room.

My legs feel heavy, like bricks are tied to my ankles with every step I take.

I don’t want to go upstairs, further away from her. I want to follow her, to make sure she’s okay.

But I don’t think that’s what she wants right now. Savannah says she wants physical touch, to be smothered with love and affection, but I could see it in her eyes; she wasn’t ready for it at that moment.

She will see that it’s okay to break around us because we will always be there to pick the pieces back up.

Placing the baby in her bassinet, I head down to my room. Flicking on the lamp on my bedside table, I open the drawer and pull out a book.

It’s a journal. For the past five years, since Savannah went missing, I’ve been keeping track of my thoughts. It wasn’t every day, just the ones that were so hard I couldn’t think straight.

Grabbing the pen, I start to write, hoping it helps the throbbing pain in my chest.

Blinking my eyes open, I realize I must have fallen asleep.

I notice it’s still dark outside, and looking at the clock, it reads three AM.

Groaning, I get up, put the book away, and head upstairs.

I frown when I don’t see Savannah in bed with the guys. It’s been a few hours since I saw her last. Where is she?

Worry fills me as I head back downstairs. Checking every room, I don’t find her. On my way up from the basement, I start to worry that she may have left.

A tightness forms in my chest, panic seeping in.

Remembering she enjoyed the garden, I pull on a hoodie and head out back.

My shoulders relax when I find her curled up in a ball, a blanket wrapped around her as she sleeps on the deck chair in the gazebo.

For a few moments, I just stand there, watching her sleep. My hand reaches out, fingers brushing some hair from her face. “Every time I look at you, I ask myself if you're real,” I whisper, my thumb brushing her cheek. “I would have spent my whole life trying to find you, Sweet Girl. But I’m so fucking glad I don’t have to. You say we saved you, but I think you have that wrong, Savvy. It’s you who saved us. Even if some of us don’t know it yet.” Leaning forward, I brush a kiss against her temple. “I’m so madly in love with you it hurts sometimes,” I murmur. “You being my pack's scent match is literally the best gift I could have ever asked for. Thank you for wanting us just as much as we want you.”

I slide my arms under her body and scoop her up, cradling her to my chest.

She lets out a little sigh before burying her face in my chest. She moans as she takes a deep inhale, and I huff out a surprised laugh as I feel her warm tongue lick up my neck. “Mine.” She sounds out of it, still asleep. “Gonna bite you right here.” The last word comes out more of a slur as she drifts off back to sleep.

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