Chapter 72 He's Insane I barked a humorless laugh. “You’re so pathetic, Dean.” For the first time, something cracked in his face. His jaw flexed and his eyes narrowed, going darker, and sharper. The drunken fog evaporated in a blink, leaving behind something cold and dangerous. “Careful, Savannah,” he hissed. His voice was no longer slurred. It was clear and sober. “You forget how much power I have.” My body froze. This wasn’t drunken rambling anymore. This was a deliberate and calculated promise of harm. The ballroom noise outside muffled to nothing, as if the door had swallowed the world whole. The bathroom had become a trap, a cage with nowhere to run. The stalls were empty. There was nobody around to help me. And Dean would never give me back my phone so I can let Roman know where I am. The filthy smirk on his face was enough to determine that he knew where my mind was running through. And he knew I was the one holding the least power here. But still, I refuse to go down without a fight. “You don’t scare me,” I said, though my pulse thundered so loud I thought he could hear it. Was that really true? It's obviously a lie. He's drunk, angry and stronger than me. I don't stand a chance against him if he decides to attack me. He stepped forward again, slow, deliberate, his smile curving in a way that made my stomach twist. “You should be scared. Because when I decide I want something, I always get it. Even you.” My eyes darted around wildly, searching for anything. Something heavy, sharp, blunt—a weapon. A vase. A candlestick. A mirror shard. Anything. But the bathroom was stripped bare. Just cold tile and toilet paper. With a hand sanitizer that would probably be of no use to me if I decided to use it as a weapon. I contemplated ripping off the tap and sticking it into his throat. It's probably going to make a good weapon. “Savannah?” Roman’s voice cut through the suffocating air like the hope I needed. Dean stiffened instantly, his head swiveling toward the door. His shoulders went rigid, his fists curling at his sides. At the far end of the hallway, framed in the doorway, stood Roman. His phone was placed against his ear. My phone was still ringing. His gaze zeroed in on me, pressed against the wall. Then it slid to Dean, looming too close, my phone missing. Every muscle in me loosened in a rush of relief so sharp it nearly buckled my knees. Roman’s jaw clenched. His entire frame radiated something lethal, a calm so controlled it was terrifying. His presence filled the small bathroom with one simple step inside. “Step away from her, weasel.” Dean laughed, but the sound was hollow. “Relax, man. We were only talking.” Roman’s eyes flicked to me. I didn’t say a word. I didn’t need to. My body told the story—rigid, trembling, pressed to the wall like prey cornered by a predator. “Now.” Roman’s voice dropped to a deadly whisper. “Step the fuck away before I put my hands on you. Do not test me.”Dean faltered, his smirk twitching. He hesitated. Then, grudgingly, he stepped back, the space between us increasing. Roman closed the distance in long, controlled strides, every step measured but laced with suppressed violence. He stopped only when he stood directly between us, his back forming a wall, shielding me from Dean’s line of sight. “Her phone,” Roman demanded, his palm outstretched, steady as stone. Dean’s jaw ticked, his nostrils flaring. For a second, I thought he would refuse. Then, with a sneer, he yanked the phone from his pocket and slapped it into Roman’s palm. “Fine. Take your little toy back.” Roman passed it to me without breaking his gaze from Dean. I clutched it to my chest like a lifeline, my fingers trembling. There were several missed calls, notifications and messages from Roman. “Go back to your bride,” Roman said, his voice deceptively calm. “Before I make you regret staying.” Dean’s chest rose and fell hard, his eyes burning holes through us. He lingered just a second too long, his jaw working, before his lips twisted into a cruel smile.“Enjoy her while you can,” he muttered, voice dark and venomous. He turned, striding down the hallway, his footsteps echoing like gunshots. Over his shoulder, he spat his final words… “She’s mine. And I’m going to take her back.” My breath came out in ragged pulls as I clutched my phone tighter, my body trembling from adrenaline. Roman turned, his eyes sweeping over me, searching for damage, for bruises. His hand lifted slowly, hesitated, then brushed my arm with the gentlest touch. “Are you okay?” I swallowed hard. My throat ached, my pulse still racing. “I’m fine.” “You’re not fine,” he murmured, voice quiet but firm. And for once, I didn’t argue. “Roman,” I whispered, my voice breaking, “I think Dean has lost his mind. He's insane.” His eyes darkened. Not with surprise. Not with doubt. But with a certainty that chilled me to the bone. Because Roman already knew.“What did he do?” He asked. My chest rose and fell as I wondered if it was a good idea to tell him the truth. Would he get mad? Would he create a scene? “Savannah,” His voice was hard and cold. “I asked you a question. And I deserve an answer.” Fear slowly crept up my spine. I can't deal with an angry Roman. He's a lot different from the man I know. So I ended up telling the truth. “He kissed me.” There was silence after I said that. Silence so loud I could only hear the sound of the tap dripping. The only movement from him was the hard clenching of his fists. “Where did he kiss you?” He asked, voice tight. “On my lips.” I answered quietly, “But I slapped him so—” Roman didn't wait for me to finish. The bathroom door slammed against the wall with a loud thud, and he was storming into the ballroom with obvious murderous intentions. And I immediately knew that this wedding was over.