Chapter 189 A Badass Team Roman Before now, there were certain conversations I used to avoid with Savannah—topics I tiptoed around, things I buried deep because I knew how ugly they could get once they reached her ears. I’d imagine her reaction, imagine the explosion, imagine the storm gathering in her eyes… and I’d decide it was better to just hold it all in. Savannah was many things, but predictable was not one of them. And angry Savannah? God help whoever summoned that version. She had fire, teeth, claws. She could tear a man’s sanity apart with nothing but her voice and her rage. So I kept things from her. Out of fear. Out of exhaustion. Out of self-preservation. But something’s changing. In her. In me. In us. Lately I’ve found myself telling her things I would’ve swallowed in the past. And she listens—quietly, fully, present. I don’t know if I’ve learned how to soften the blow and gently ease her into these topics… or if she’s finally learned how to keep her emotions contained instead of detonating on impact. Maybe it’s both.Right now, she’s lying across my chest, drawing a thousand hearts on my skin with lazy fingers as I narrate everything Reese told me in the kitchen. Everything we discussed. Everything we uncovered about these disgusting cowards. Well… almost everything. I left out the part about Lizzie joining us in this deadly adventure. No need to light a match before I’m ready for the fire. When I finish talking, the room goes quiet—the kind of quiet that stretches, that breathes, that waits. Her fingers pause on my chest for half a heartbeat before she slowly lifts her head. “So you believe Kingston had something to do with… Dahlia?” There it is. Her voice doesn’t shake, but her eyes do. Dahlia is the one thing Savannah will never be able to hide from. She can act unaffected about Kingston, she can pretend he’s nothing but dust on the floor of her past—but Dahlia? That name hits us both in the same place. The hollow place. The bruise. Earlier, when she asked me questions, she kept watching my face, waiting for signs—hurt, discomfort, anything. But I didn’t give her any, because… I’m not affected by Dahlia anymore. Not the way I used to be. Not in the way that breaks a man. Not in the way that makes breathing feel like the worst betrayal.She’s gone. She’s a memory. And if I keep letting her ghost choke me, then I’m not the man I think I am. And I’m not the man Savannah and our child deserves. Yes, I loved Dahlia. Yes, I wanted a life with her. Yes, I wanted to provide for her and make her happy. Yes, I mourned her like a man mourning his last chance at happiness. But all of that changed the moment I met Savannah—this wild, chaotic, beautiful force of nature Goldberg warned me about. The girl who walked into my life like she was born to flip the entire damn place upside-down. I still remember it. She looked like trouble wrapped in sunshine. Pretty enough to make any sane man stupid. So of course I let her chew on my pen for longer than necessary—just to look at her. Then she opened her mouth. Jesus. I realized instantly that she was kind in a way people rarely are. Kind without trying. Rough around the edges but soft in the places that mattered. And she didn’t treat me like I was special or important. She didn’t see the status, the money or the name. She just saw… me. Roman. Until she called me “bestie.” That was when things took a violent left turn. I’d never been friend-zoned so brutally in my entire life. She said it like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like she didn’t just murder my ego in cold blood. But despite the insult to my manhood, she really became my best friend. The one person I looked forward to seeing everyday even though it meant listening to her talk about being with other men. The one person who treated me like I mattered. And somewhere in the middle of all that, I fell for her so hard I didn’t even realize Dahlia’s shadow had vanished from my mind. So no—if she thinks I’m still hung up on a ghost while living inside the happiest chapter of my entire life, she needs to rethink that. I’m over Dahlia. I don't love her anymore. I hope she forgives me for the ways I failed her. And I hope getting vengeance—real vengeance—on The General and his pathetic circle of monsters gives her the justice she truly deserves. “According to Reese,” I finally say, brushing my fingers down Savannah’s arm, “he’s certain their aliases are based on their roles in society. Like a twisted play on their actual occupations.” “Ohh.” She processes it, her brows pulling together. “So the Party Man isn’t like… an actual party. It’s more like a political party?” “Yes.” “That’s actually smart,” she mutters. “So if you’re correct, then there’s a chance that Kingston also…” She swallows, throat bobbing, voice thinning. “There’s a chance he also… took advantage of Dahlia?” My jaw locks so tight I feel it crack. “Christ, Sav. I don’t even want to think that. If it’s true—if that bastard touched her—I swear I’ll dig up his fucking bones and kill him again. This time I’ll make sure he rests in pieces.” Her face twists, disgust and pain swirling together. “But why though? Why would he do something like that? Why would any of them? Why do they get pleasure from hurting people? Kingston lived his whole disgusting life destroying women for his own satisfaction. It’s sick.” “My father is sick as well,” I correct softly. “He’s mentally rotted from the inside out, and he hides it by pretending he’s sane. If he’s actually the ringleader of this cult—this twisted circus—then this is only the surface. The real nightmare is deeper.” Her breath trembles. She buries her face in my chest like she’s trying to block out the world. “I think I’m going to be sick.” “Alright.” I stroke her hair. “Enough about these pigs. I’m just glad you’re okay. I thought you’d be…” “Crying and throwing up?” she finishes for me, letting out a shaky giggle. “That bastard can’t touch me anymore. Even if he comes back as a vengeful ghost, you’d protect me. I know you would.” She leans up and kisses me—soft, slow, steady. A reassurance, a promise, a grounding. And when she pulls back, her eyes are softer. And that’s when I remember the thing I didn’t tell her. “There’s something else,” I say. Her head pops up, curious. “What?” “Lizzie wants to go with Reese and I to Blackwood Manor.” I brace myself for the explosion. For her voice to rise. For her to launch into a rant, maybe throw a pillow at my head, maybe cuss Reese out, maybe all three at once. But she doesn’t. She surprises me. Just like she always does. “I’m going too,” she declares. “…What?” “I’m going too,” she repeats, louder this time, like she’s daring me to object. “And it’s good that you’re letting Lizzie come. She deserves a little fun before going back to Chicago. Her mom is very… strict.” Oh. “I see,” I murmur, still processing. “I’m surprised you’re okay with all of this. Are you sure you’re really okay with it?” She laughs—an actual laugh—and kisses my jaw. “Of course. I’ve always wanted to see Blackwood Manor. Plus, I get to take our baby to your childhood home. We’re leaving for Italy tomorrow, right? Then we go to the manor with a badass team like the Avengers. Completely normal family trip. Does sound like a lot of fun to me.” She says sarcastically. She grins then, full and mischievous. “Besides… I’m curious to meet your other siblings. You said there were others—how many, exactly?” I groan and cover my face with my hand. “You’ll see, my love. You’ll see.” She snuggles into my chest again, warm and soft and stubborn in the way I love most. And right then—despite the danger, the secrets, the monsters waiting for us—I feel something I haven’t felt in a long time. Hope. Because this time, we’re not walking into darkness alone. We’re walking in together.And God help anyone who thinks they can stand in our way.