Chapter 204 Who Is He? Savannah The drive to the address Chloe had given us felt longer than it was. By the time we pulled up to the building, every single expectation I’d formed about Zane’s new life was confirmed. Chloe’s directions had led us to a squat concrete building wedged between a liquor store and an antique shop. The weak neon sign flickered in broad daylight like it was gasping for its last breath. And there was a peeling poster which slapped against the wall with every gust of wind. A motorcycle leaned against the wall, its paint chipped and its owner clearly unbothered. The whole area felt like the kind of place where bad decisions were made… and worse ones were bought. “Are you sure you don’t want to sit back and let me handle this?” Roman asked quietly, his voice low enough to blend into the hum of the engine. “No.” I unbuckled my seat belt and reached for the door. “Let’s get this over with and go home.” He hesitated. I could see the fight forming in his jaw, but he let out a slow breath and nodded. He stepped out first, rounding the car to my side, and his hand slid into mine with familiar possessiveness as we approached the entrance. A blast of sensory chaos hit the moment we stepped inside. Aggressive, bass-heavy, and vibrating music pounded from hidden speakers through the floor. The sharp buzzing of a tattoo gun could be heard even with the music blasting. The place smelled like ink, metal, and something vaguely citrus, like someone had tried to clean but gave up halfway. And then I saw him. Zane. He was exactly as I remembered him. The same lip ring. The same eyebrow ring. The same cocky slouch. He was hunched over a bikini-clad woman sprawled on the leather chair, shading her waist tattoo with deep concentration. I cleared my throat. “Zane.” His head lifted. His eyes flicked toward me, widened, then brightened with a smile that was equal parts familiarity and surprise. “Savannah. Long time no see.” “Likewise,” I said, forcing a brittle smile. “You didn’t tell an old friend you were leaving LA. You just vanished after my sister went missing. That was rude, Zane.” The smile fell off his face like someone had slapped it off. He murmured something to the girl—something soft, hurried—and she gathered her things and slipped out the back without a glance at us. Roman’s grip on my hand tightened, just enough for me to feel the heat radiating off his skin. Not jealousy. Not anger. Something sharper. Something impatient. The moment the girl disappeared, Zane’s expression hardened. “What do you want, Savannah?” His gaze flicked to Roman. “And who is he?” “This is Roman,” I said. “My fiancé.” Zane didn’t bother hiding the way he sized Roman up. “Right. Cool. Uh… what’s up, man?” Roman ignored the greeting and just stared at him like he was a stain he wanted to scrub off the earth. “What do you know that Chloe and Paula don’t want us to find out?” The color drained from Zane’s face instantly. “You’ve met Chloe?” “Yes.” Roman stepped forward. “And she and Paula are being treated for gunshot wounds—hand and leg—as we speak. So I suggest you start talking, because I’m quite trigger-happy today, Zane.” Zane blinked. “You shot Chloe?”“She was wasting my time,” Roman said, tone flat. “Just like you’re doing right now. She wouldn't shut up.” Zane looked shaken, his mind racing. Then he ran a hand over his mouth and whispered, “Are they going to be okay?” “They’ll live,” Roman said. “Can’t say the same for you if you keep stalling.” Zane let out a slow exhale and sank into the chair behind him, bracing his elbows on his knees like he needed to hold himself together. “You need to get Chloe away from my sister,” he said finally, voice stripped of its usual bravado. “She’s not good for her.” “No shit.” I muttered, folding my arms. “That’s really obvious, Zane.” “No.” He shook his head, eyes desperate. “No, Savannah. You don’t understand. It’s not that simple. Paula is bad news. She—she’s been supplying Chloe drugs, and they’re messing her up. At first it was weed. I used to get her some back then. But it stopped helping.” “Helping with what?” I asked. “And Chloe’s been smoking weed since high school.” A bitter memory stabbed through me. “I covered for her. Lied for her. Got another student suspended because of her.”“I know.” His voice softened. “But weed wasn’t enough anymore. She was scared. Paranoid. She couldn’t sleep. Her anxiety—” “Was this before or after you faked her disappearance?” I snapped, letting him know I was aware of that and that I wasn’t letting it slide. Zane hesitated, glancing at Roman like he was trying to gauge how fast he could run before Roman broke his spine. Smart of him. Roman didn’t look in the mood to let anyone run. He winced. “After she moved here. But listen—your sister had PTSD. It was really really bad. That’s when she started doing the harder stuff. I got it for her the first time because she hadn’t slept in three days. She was shaking. Crying. I didn’t know what else to do. But I never meant for it to become a daily thing—” Roman cut him off sharply. “What did you expect when you gave her the first one? That she’d take it once and magically be fine? How stupid are you?” “I said I didn’t know,” Zane hissed. “I was trying to help her sleep. When she asked me for another hit, I refused because of the baby. And because I could tell she was getting dependent. But I didn’t realize that if she didn’t get it from me that she’d get it from someone else. And that someone else was Paula.”My stomach dropped. “Your sister kept giving her drugs even though she was pregnant? What is wrong with you people?” “I had nothing to do with that,” Zane said quickly. “The pregnancy was mine. Why would I hurt my own child?” “Well, you tell me!” I snapped. His eyes flickered with something dark. “Paula is the one to blame for the miscarriage.” Everything in me froze. Miscarriage. Not abortion. Not “getting rid of it.” Miscarriage. My breath stuttered. “What do you mean miscarriage? Chloe told me she got rid of the baby. And now you’re saying she miscarried?” Zane frowned at me like he couldn’t understand how I didn’t know. “Chloe didn’t get rid of the baby, Savannah. She lost it because of Paula.” My throat closed. “What are you talking about?” My voice cracked. “Those bruises on her body, are they from Paula? Chloe has bruises, Zane.” He rubbed both hands over his face, rough palms scraping against stubble. “Paula has anger issues. Serious ones. When Chloe started messing with her, I told her it was a bad idea. I warned her. My sister… She's not a good person to be around. The drugs were how Paula kept Chloe close. She gives her what she wants, and Chloe stays hooked.” “And you just stood there and let it happen?” I demanded. “You let her lose your child?” “I wasn’t home when Chloe lost the baby,” he said quietly. “I was right here, working. By the time I got back, it was too late. The damage was done. And the worst part? Chloe didn’t feel anything. Not physically. Not emotionally. She was too high.” A scream clawed at my throat. Before I could think, I surged forward and grabbed his collar. “Why did Paula do that? Why did your sister hurt her? Why did she hurt the baby? Why drag Chloe into your messed-up sibling war?” He pulled free, stumbling back. Roman moved instantly—one step forward, placing himself between us, his hand steady on my arm, but his eyes locked on Zane with enough silent threat to make him flinch. Zane dragged a hand through his hair. “It’s more than a rivalry, Savannah. Paula and I… we got into some shit. Rough shit. Dangerous shit. And it blew up. I was lucky to get out in one piece. I tried to leave everything behind. But Paula didn’t. She stayed in it and went down for it. And now she's trying to punish me by hurting the things I care about.” Roman’s head tilted slightly, the shift subtle but predatory. “What shit did you get into with your sister?” Zane swallowed. The room seemed to hold its breath. And I felt it—something shifting. Something big. Something terrible. The truth was finally bleeding through the cracks.