Page 28 of Freeing Savannah

Another hard slam with his shoulder, and the door gave way in a groan of splinters.

What he saw twisted his gut.

The room was shrouded in darkness except for a pale spill of light from the hallway filtering through the broken doorway. Savannah’s breath hitched in ragged gasps as she huddled in the corner. Her hands trembled uncontrollably, her knuckles white as she pressed herself against the cold wall. Terror was etched into every feature, but especially her wide, glassy eyes, unblinking and filled with stark fear. Like she wasn’t even here. Like she was somewhere else entirely.

“Savi,” he said gently, his tone shifting immediately from soldier to soft. “It’s me. You’re okay now. It’s just me.”

Her head snapped up, and after a moment, recognition dawned in those stormy eyes just before she surged forward and collapsed against him.

He caught her without hesitation, arms wrapping around her small frame, tucking her against his chest as if he could shield her from every shadow in the world.

She was shaking.

No, not just shaking. She wascrumblingin his arms.

“I couldn’t get out,” she gasped, her voice muffled against him. “The lights went out and . . . I thought . . . I thought . . .” Her breath hitched into a sob she tried to swallow.

His jaw tightened. He didn’t ask who or what she thought was happening. But he had his suspicions. He’d have to remember to ask Haley to dig deeper into what her life had been like with the Senator.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered into her hair. “You hear me, Savi? No one’s locking you in anywhere. Not ever again. You’re safe.”

She clutched him tighter.

Sawyer held her there, letting the silence wrap around them like a barrier against the reception’s false glitter and pressurized diplomacy. It didn’t matter that he was wearing a tailored tux, or that she was in a designer gown meant for royalty. Right now, she wasn’t a senator’s daughter. She wasn’t a performer in a political spotlight.

She was just Savannah.

His Savi.

And whoever made her feel this helpless again . . .hewould deal with that.

Later.

For now, he’d keep her close, his voice steady and low as he gently rocked her back and forth. “I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured. “Not this time.”

And he meant every word.

As he held her, he contacted their driver, instructing him to meet them at the secondary location he’d already scouted. Then he gathered Savannah into his arms, her quiet breaths warm against his neck, and carried her out. Grateful for the deserted employee corridors providing cover, he moved swiftly, the faint scent of cleaning supplies in the air, towards their waiting car.

The lateness of the hour provided him with an advantage, allowing him to carry Savannah through the hotel without anyone noticing. Sawyer slid the keycard into the door of her suite, Savannah still limp in his arms.

She hadn’t said much since they’d left the reception. He’d kept her in his arms, settling her on his lap in the back seat as the driver had made his way through the late night traffic. Savannah had leaned into him with that quiet stiffness that told him the panic hadn’t fully passed. Her fingers had clutched his jacket as if afraid she might fall apart again if she let go.

He hadn’t pressed her. Not yet.

The suite’s lights came on with a soft glow as the door opened. He walked inside and shut the world out with a final click of the lock.

No press. No diplomats. No Senator. No questions.

Just them.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, her voice small and frayed.

“No apology needed.” He moved them toward the couch. “You’re safe here.”

He set her down, and she sank onto the cushion without resistance, curling her legs underneath her like she was trying to make herself smaller.

Voodoo crouched in front of her, loosening his tie with one hand while reaching for a nearby water bottle with the other. Opening it, he passed it to her. “Drink this.”

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