Page 27 of Freeing Savannah

Minutes that seemed like hours passed. Too long. Her breathing was too shallow. Too frantic. She backed into a corner, wrapping her arms around herself, willing the shaking to stop.

Then—a voice.

A firm knock.

“Savannah?” Sawyer. His voice, low, urgent. “It’s me. Are you in there?” She tried to answer, but the words caught in her throat, strangled by the memories.

“Stand back from the door. I’m breaking it down.”

A loud crack. Then another. The door splintered open with a final shudder of wood and light flooded in, harsh, fluorescent, and blinding.

Sawyer moved fast, his silhouette rushing through the jagged doorway. She didn’t even think.

She collapsed into his arms.

He caught her, strong and steady, holding her like the world couldn’t touch her anymore. Her hands fisted into the lapels of his tuxedo jacket. Her face buried against his chest, breathing him in. Clean soap, wood, and something warm that always made her feel safe.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured into her hair. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

She didn’t answer. Just held on like he was the only solid thing left.

Because in that moment, he was.

CHAPTER 9

Voodoo leanedagainst the marble wall at the end of the corridor, arms crossed loosely, but every muscle in his body was on alert.

He’d seen the signs all evening, the tight smile, the glazed look in her eyes, the way her shoulders had risen an inch higher with every toast, every flashbulb, every unwanted touch from some dignitary looking to score a diplomatic headline. Savannah didn’t thrive in crowds. She endured them.

And tonight had asked too much.

So when she’d whispered that she’d needed the restroom, he hadn’t pressed. He’d just watched her go, every instinct in him trained to her rhythm. Her gait, her posture, and the unspoken tension that told him this wasn’t just about needing a bathroom.

It was about needing air.

For what felt like the hundredth time, he glanced at his watch.

He let two minutes pass. Then three.

Five.

Voodoo glanced down the hallway. Still no sign of her. Worry began to take hold in the pit of his stomach. He pushed off the wall and approached the door to the woman’s room quietly. Thehall dead-ended after the men’s room, which was just past the woman’s. One way in. One way out. Given his focus, there was no chance that he would have failed to notice her slipping past unnoticed. She was still inside, and his gut told him something was wrong.

He tapped his knuckles against the wood gently. “Savannah?” No answer. His frown deepened. “It’s me.”

He tried the handle. Locked.That was weird.

“Savi?” A little louder this time. “You okay?”

Still nothing.

A cold thread worked its way down his spine. He gripped the doorknob again, jiggled it harder. It didn’t just feel locked, it feltjammed. Mechanically wrong.

He didn’t hesitate. “Stand back from the door. I’m breaking it down.”

Voodoo stepped back, rolled his shoulders, and kicked the door square at the lock.

Crack. The frame split.

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