Page 68 of Freeing Savannah

“Always,” promised Voodoo.

CHAPTER 28

The SUV curvedalong the sleek drive, approaching what looked, at first glance, like something from a dream—a giant glass-and-titanium egg floating atop a shimmering pool. The National Centre for the Performing Arts shimmered in the late afternoon haze, its futuristic dome catching the pale Beijing sun and reflecting it in every direction.

Savannah sat forward in her seat, her breath catching in her throat. “It’s . . . beautiful,” she murmured.

Sawyer glanced at her from beside the driver, eyes watchful. “Like something out of a sci-fi movie.”

“No,” Savannah said softly, a hand pressed to the window. “Like something sacred.”

After the SUV stopped, Sawyer assisted her out of the vehicle, the humid air brushing her skin as they crossed the short footbridge. The surface of the manmade lake rippled faintly around them, a moat guarding one of the most iconic concert halls in the world.

Inside, the temperature dropped into a cool, pristine calm. Marble, gold leaf, and rich woods curved elegantly along walls and staircases, every detail whispering grandeur. Thearchitecture felt more like a living instrument than a building. Every angle was fine-tuned for sound, light, and drama.

As she entered the main concert hall, she had to stop.

It was cavernous, yet intimate. Red velvet seats rose in sweeping tiers around the golden stage. Overhead, the acoustic panels hovered like silent sentinels. She imagined her music rising, filling the space, reaching the highest balcony and beyond.

Her fingers twitched with anticipation.

“Savannah?” Daphne’s voice called from downstage. “They’re ready for you to rehearse.”

She turned, suddenly grounded again. Nerves fluttered low in her belly, but they were quiet compared to the awe. She took one step, then another, heels tapping faintly as she made her way to the center of the stage.

The light inside the National Centre for the Performing Arts, otherwise known as the NCPA, was cool and diffused, filtering down from the layered ceiling in pale silvers and soft blues. On stage, the piano sat like a coiled animal—polished, powerful, and waiting, surrounded by the China NCPA Orchestra. Savannah exhaled slowly, placing her iPad, which digitally held her music, on the music stand. Normally for such a performance, she’d have memorized the music. But since this tour was so extensive, she thought it would be better to have music on hand. Flexing her fingers once, she then placed her fingers on the keys and began the first movement of the piece she’d be opening with tonight. The acoustics in the dome carried every note with a haunting clarity.

Near the piano, Brian stood with his tool case in hand. He’d checked the instrument already, said as much when she’d arrived. Still, he lingered, fidgeting with something inside the soundboard or polishing the already-clean frame. He’d been with her for so many years, she was used to his fiddling while sherehearsed. But today he seemed a little more high-strung than usual.

After the rehearsal, Savannah caught his reflection in the glossy black lid. “You seem off today,” she said gently, not accusing, just observing.

Brian blinked, startled, then gave her a half-hearted smile. “Didn’t sleep much. The flight . . . and all the lockdown protocols coming in. Makes my skin crawl a little.”

She nodded, reading between the lines. He wasn’t a man who rattled easily. Usually, he was methodical, private, and always laser-focused on the piano. Today, though, his eyes kept drifting to the wings.

Before she could ask anything more, Henry sauntered in, sharp suit and snake-oil grin firmly in place. “Savannah, I hope you’ll play something just for me tonight.”

Savannah forced a polite smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “It’s a public performance, Henry. You’ll have to share.”

“Still,” he said, stepping too close, “a girl like you on a stage like this. Makes a man wish for encores.”

Brian stiffened. Savannah glanced at him and saw his eyes flick toward Henry, then to her, then down. His jaw was clenched, his knuckles white around the frame of the piano. He wouldn’t look directly at Henry, but every muscle in his body was on edge.

“Henry, I need a moment to finish my rehearsal,” Savannah said, her voice cool.

Henry smirked and gave a small bow. “As you wish.”

Once he disappeared backstage, Brian muttered, “That guy gives me the creeps.”

Savannah touched his arm lightly. “You and me both.”

“Promise me . . .” he started then paused.

“What,” Savannah prodded.

"You should be careful," he mumbled, the words so low they were nearly swallowed by the people moving around them. “Take it as a warning or whatever. Just . . . watch yourself.”

He sent her a quick look before he turned away, mumbling something, about what she couldn’t discern.

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