Page 11 of Savage

Images flashed through her mind: her niece's innocent smile, Trinity's worried face, Savage's intense gaze. The weight of her choices pressed down on her, suffocating in its intensity. She’d only been in Grand Ridge for three days and already, the weight of it all was overwhelming her.

“I never wanted any of this,” Savannah whispered to the empty room. “I just wanted to pay for my mom’s medicine.”

Savannah's mind drifted back to that fateful night three months ago. The neon lights of the seedy bar flickered in her memory, casting an eerie glow on the faces of the Rejects members who had cornered her.

“You owe us, little girl,” their leader had sneered, his breath reeking of cheap whiskey. “And we always collect our debts.”

She'd trembled, her heart racing as she stammered, "Please, I-I didn't know. I can't pay that much right now. I thought I had more time, I’m working, raising the money. But my mom?—”

“Your mom?” he'd laughed, a cruel sound that still echoed in her nightmares. “Oh, we know all about your dead mom. We also know a lot about your pretty little niece. Be a shame if something happened to her, wouldn't it?”

Savannah shuddered, the memory as vivid as if it had happened yesterday. She'd had no choice but to agree to their demands, to become their unwilling spy. Working overtime at the hotel, she hadn’t come close to paying off the loan she’d taken out to pay for her mother’s medication and eventually the burial. She should have listened to her gut, when it told her to run after she’d stepped inside the payday loan building. Desperate people do desperate things, and she needed money for her mom’s medication. She’d tried everything else, even the social worker at the hospital had hit dead ends.

She rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling through tear-filled eyes. The stark reality of her situation hit her anew. She was in too deep, caught between the ruthless The Rejects andthe Spartan Watchmen. She’d never been a good actress and was a terrible liar. Her mom told her on more than one occasion to never play poker. She was more introvert than extrovert and this role she had to play, getting close to The Watchmen, was taking every ounce of energy out of her.

“What am I going to do?” she asked herself, her voice trembling. “How can I keep my niece safe and pay back these assholes without hurting anyone else?”

As the sobs subsided, replaced by a hollow ache in her chest, Savannah realized she had no easy answers.

CHAPTER 4

SAVANNAH

Savannah's heart raced as she followed Savage's motorcycle down the highway. It’d been racing a lot lately. There’d been times where she wasn’t sure if she was having a heart or a panic attack. Thoughts and emotions bounced around inside of her, none of them sticking for more than a second. She was nothing if not completely overwhelmed and ill equipped for this situation.

She felt embarrassed for calling Savage ‘Daddy’ and ashamed of herself for lying and tricking all the people she’d met in Grand Ridge. Not to mention desperation pooling in her stomach for the safety of her sister and niece. She was also angry about her mother dying. Not at her mother, but at God. God allowed her mother to get cancer. God allowed her to die. She knew blaming God wasn’t at all rational but at the moment, she didn’t care. She was angry. Angry at the joke of a healthcare system they had, angry at the people who took advantage of her when she was at her lowest and angry at herself for being so damn stupid.

As they approached their destination, an imposing structure loomed ahead. She followed Savage through a guarded gate and pulled into the gravel lot outside of the building. The Spartan Watchmen's clubhouse stood like a fortress, its weathered brick exterior and barred windows a stark contrast to the vulnerability of her motel room. She parked next to Savage, opened the car door and stepped outside.

“Home away from home,” Savage announced as he cut the engine.

Savannah gazed up at the building, her eyes wide. “It's... a lot bigger than I expected,” she murmured.

Savage chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent shivers down her spine. “Wait 'til you see the inside.”

As they entered, Savannah was struck by the unexpected warmth of the interior. Rich, dark wood paneling and leather furnishings created an atmosphere of masculine comfort. The air smelled of expensive cigar smoke and whiskey, with an underlying scent of leather and oil.

“This is the main area,” Savage explained, his hand resting on the small of her back as he guided her through. “Kitchen's through there, rec room down that hall.”

Savannah nodded, trying to absorb it all. “It feels... safe,” she admitted, surprised by her own words.

Savage's eyes softened slightly. “That's the idea, darlin'. Now, let me show you where you will be staying.”

He led her up the stairs and then down a corridor, pointing out heavy oak doors.

“These are the officers' private quarters. Each officer has a large bedroom with a full attached bathroom. We rotate through twenty-four hour shifts here. The important thing is there's always someone on guard. 24/7 security, cameras covering every angle outside and most of the inside. There are no cameras in the bedrooms.”

As he detailed the security measures, Savannah felt a weight lifting from her shoulders. For the first time in months, she felt truly protected. But a nagging voice in the back of her mind whispered, 'Protected from what? The Rejects... or your own choices?' Savage stopped at the last door in the corridor, his massive frame nearly blocking the entire entryway. He reached into his pocket, producing a flat keycard that looked like those used in a hotel.

“This,” he said, his gravelly voice low, “is my private suite.” He unlocked the door and escorted her into the large room. A king-sized bed stood in the middle, two nightstands flanking it. On the other side of the room was a small sitting area with a couch, a coffee table and a TV. To the side was a small desk and chair.

Savannah's eyes widened, her heart skipping a beat. “But... where will you stay?”

Savage's lips quirked into a half-smile. “Don't worry, darlin'. I've got a house nearby. I’ll stay in the guest rooms when I’m here. You need this more than I do right now.”

“I can stay in one of the guest rooms,” she offered. “You don’t have to give up your room for me.”

“The guest rooms don’t have their own bathrooms or locks on the doors. I’d prefer no one to walk in on you while you showered. You’ll stay here.”

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