Chapter 238 Where Is Roman? Savannah The world didn’t end all at once. At least not for me. It unraveled slowly, brutally, in pieces I couldn’t stop watching. Red and blue lights flooded the house, flashing against the walls, against the bodies, against the blood that no amount of sirens could erase. The front of the house turned into absolute chaos. There were voices shouting, boots pounding, radios crackling, but I felt removed from it all, like I was trapped behind glass, watching a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from. Roman was lifted onto a stretcher. Roman—my Roman—motionless, pale… lifeless. “No—no, wait—” I sobbed, scrambling after them, my hands clutching at his shirt as if sheer will could keep him with me. “Please—please don’t take him yet—he’s still here—he has to be—” “Ma’am,” one of the paramedics said gently but firmly, peeling my fingers away. “We need space.”Space. As if space hadn’t already stolen everything from me. I stumbled after them anyway, barefoot, shaking, my knees threatening to give out with every step. I barely registered when another stretcher rolled past me. Then another. Then another. My eyes latched onto them unwillingly. Chloe. My sister. Her body was covered, zipped up, anonymous in death in a way she’d never been in life. Paula followed. Then Julius. And then, one of the bodyguards. Four stretchers. Four bodies. All being wheeled into separate ambulances, their doors slamming shut one by one, sealing them forever away from the living. My stomach lurched violently. I gagged, doubling over, my hands braced against my knees as my breath came in sharp, broken gasps. Someone—my mother, I think—grabbed my shoulders to steady me, but I barely felt it. I ignored her, shaking off her touch. Nothing else mattered to me. Not even my own well-being. The only thing that mattered or made sense was Roman. The only stretcher that mattered was Roman’s. They pushed him into the ambulance, and before anyone could stop me, I climbed in after them. “I’m going with him,” I cried. “I’m not leaving him—please—I’m his fiancée—I’m pregnant with his child—please—” The word pregnant seemed to snap something into place. They didn’t argue. They let me in. The doors slammed shut, cutting off everything else, the sirens screaming to life as the ambulance lurched forward. Roman lay still beneath the harsh fluorescent lights, tubes and wires everywhere, his chest terrifyingly unmoving. One of the paramedics pressed rhythmically against his sternum, counting under his breath. “No,” I whispered. “No, no, no—” I clutched his hand. His hand was cold and limp in mine. I sobbed so hard my vision blurred. “Roman, please,” I begged. “Please wake up. Please breathe. Please come back to me.” Nothing. Another paramedic tilted his head back, forcing air into his lungs. The monitor emitted a flat, merciless tone that made my chest seize instantly.I screamed. “Don’t stop!” I sobbed at them, begging them not to give up on him. “Please don’t stop! Bring him back—bring my fiancé back to me! He has a family—he has a child—he needs to live—please—” My voice cracked into something I couldn’t recognize as panic swallowed me whole. “This is my fault,” I cried. “I shot him—I didn’t mean to—I didn’t know—it was an accident—Roman, I’m so sorry—I’m so sorry—please—” I placed my hand on his arm, shaking violently. “Please wake up,” I whispered. “Please. I need you. Your baby needs you. I can’t do this without you.” The paramedics exchanged looks I didn’t like. Looks that carried quiet resignation. Fear wrapped icy fingers around my heart. “No,” I screamed, my voice raw. “No—don’t look at him like that—don’t give up on him—I won’t let you—” “Ma’am,” one of them said softly, but I shook my head, tears streaming down my face. “I won’t let him die,” I sobbed. “You hear me? I won’t—”Then suddenly, one of them spoke. “Wait,” the paramedic said sharply. “Hold on.” Everything froze. Including time. He leaned closer to the monitor, eyes narrowing. “I’ve got something.” Another heartbeat later, he spoke again. “There,” he said. “Pulse. We have a pulse.” A pulse. The word hit me like oxygen after drowning. I collapsed forward, clutching Roman’s hand, sobbing hysterically. “Oh God,” I cried. “Thank you—thank you—please—please keep him—” The ambulance screeched into the hospital minutes later, and everything blurred. They rushed him away from me immediately, shouting medical jargon I couldn’t follow as the doors to the emergency room slammed shut in my face. I dropped to the floor pathetically, sobbing my heart out. I don’t remember when Alyssa arrived. Or when my mother and Jace followed. I only remember arms wrapping around me as I screamed, my body folding inward like it was trying to disappear.“He’s fighting for his life,” I sobbed. “I shot him—he was going to die because of me—” “Savannah,” Alyssa whispered, stroking my hair as I shook uncontrollably. Emily clung to her side, eyes wide and frightened. “Please—try to breathe.” “I don’t care about breathing!” I screamed. “I care about Roman!” My mother knelt in front of me, tears streaming down her face. “Sweetheart,” she pleaded. “You have to calm down. You’re pregnant. Think about the baby.” “I don’t care!” I sobbed. “I just want him alive—please—I just want him alive—” Jace stood helplessly nearby, his face drawn and haunted. “Savannah,” he said softly. “He’s strong. He’ll fight. I know he'll survive this.” “But what if he doesn’t?” I screamed. “What if he leaves me? What if he never wakes up? What if my baby never knows their father?” My voice broke completely as a terrifying thought slammed into me. What if he already never would? I looked down at myself then. At my hands. At my clothes. They were soaked in blood.Roman’s blood. Sticky, dark, everywhere—on my palms, my arms, smeared across me like proof of what I’d done. A sob tore out of me so violently I nearly retched. “I did this,” I whispered. “I did this to him.” Hours passed. Or minutes. Time lost meaning as I sat in that sterile waiting room, staring at the closed doors that had swallowed Roman whole. Every second stretched endlessly, each one threatening to snap me apart. Surgery. They were still in surgery. Removing bullets. Stopping the bleeding. Saving his life. Or trying to. I prayed. I begged. I whispered promises to God that I didn’t even know how to keep. I pressed my hands to my stomach, trembling. “Please,” I whispered to the baby inside me. “Please keep your father here. Please.” But that moment didn't last long because the one person I never expected to see today was presently making his way towards me. And he looked like he was going to murder me. Footsteps echoed down the hall. Heavy, measured, authoritative footsteps. My head snapped up.General Reginald Blackwood walked into the waiting room, his presence commanding immediate attention. His cane struck the floor with every step, that slight limp unmistakable, his face looked like it was carved from literal stone. Cassandra trailed behind him, her eyes sharp and assessing, taking everything in. Including me. Fear crawled up my spine immediately as I rose up. The General’s gaze locked onto me instantly, burning with fury. “Where the hell is my son?!” he roared. I flinched violently. “What did you do to him?!” he thundered, his voice echoing through the hospital. “Where is Roman?!” My lips trembled as I tried to speak—but no sound came out. Only sobs. Only terror. Only the crushing weight of knowing that the man I loved was fighting for his life behind those doors—and I didn’t know if he’d ever come back to me.