Page 45 of Freeing Savannah

Notbefore.

“Five more minutes,” the leader said with a laugh. Savannah’s stomach churned, a sickening twist as the heavy thud of his boots grew nearer, each step a hammer blow against her heart.

Her eyes scanned the ballroom, hunting for anything,anyone, that might offer hope. But all she saw were bowed heads and tear-streaked faces. Diplomats. Performers. Staff. Every one of them reduced to bargaining chips in a political reckoning they hadn’t signed up for.

She swallowed her panic. Sawyer would come. She knew that for a fact. He always had.

Even when they were kids, when her mother started dating the Senator and the slow erosion of her sense of safety had begun, Sawyer had protected her. Hidden with her in the treehouse. Snuck books through her window. Stolen her away from suffocating silence, followed by the Senator’s caustic words with laughter and stargazing.

He’d find her again. She just had to last five more minutes.

Her hands balled into fists as she breathed in slowly,once, twice,centering herself.

Please,she thought, not sure if she was begging Sawyer, or fate.

Please hurry.

CHAPTER 17

Voodoo’sback pressed against the marble wall just outside the Segah Ballroom, the softclickof a comms check buzzing in his ear. The breaching charge was set and ready on the door; now, he waited, anticipating Mustang’s signal to initiate the breach. With his rifle raised and his finger delicately poised beside the trigger, he stood ready. His earpiece buzzed with quiet confirmations from the others, positions secured, their own charges ready. The ornate corridors of the embassy were deceptively silent, as if the building itself were holding its breath.

So was he.

He could feel the weight of the moment in every muscle, the calm before violence. But as the countdown began in his ear, his mind drifted toher.

The look in her eyes last night, soft and unsure, lips kiss-bitten from the way they’d clung to each other. That kiss had started sweet, but quickly became all-consuming. Years of silence and longing igniting in one crash of mouths, hands,need.

She had trembled against him, gasped his name as she found her pleasure. The sight of her coming was something that he would never forget. For the first time in forever, something inside himmoved. Something he’d thought long buried.

He wanted more than just that night. He wanted afuturewith her. Whatever it took, he made a solemn pledge to fight for that future. They’d face whatever challenges that lay ahead together. She would never have to face this life alone again. And if they survived this ordeal, he was determined to begin building that future.

Voodoo wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers. In all his wildest imaginings, he had never thought he would be about to execute a mission while wearing a tuxedo, but that was the reality he found himself in. At least he’d taken off the jacket and tie, even if he had no memory of where he’d left them.

The corridor was dim, the ambient hotel lighting down to emergency levels, perfect for a strike. He wiped his palms again. He’d never been this nervous about a mission before. But this one was the most important mission of his life. Because of Savi. If anything happened to her . . . he didn’t even want to complete that thought. Nothing would happen to her. He wouldn’t let it.

Mustang signaled to the rest of the SEAL team through their comms as they fanned out around the ballroom: Midas, Pid, Jag, Slate, and Aleck—all highly trained ghosts in motion. The team had easily accepted Voodoo as another teammate, and they worked seamlessly together. The SEAL methods were so ingrained in him that, without conscious thought, he fell back on his elite training as if it were an extension of himself.

Haley’s voice came through the comm, tight with tension. “Voodoo, I’ve got an ID on the leader. Facial recognition hit from a five-year-old Interpol file. Name’s Nariman Bakhtiar. Former teacher turned activist. Used to organize student protests against the regime. His wife and two brothers were taken in the purge after the Senator’s deal with Azerbaijan. None of them were ever seen again.”

Flint’s voice cut in next. “Word is, Nariman went underground. Built a following of radicals who gave up onpeaceful reform. They think Savannah’s tour is just political theater—a smokescreen.”

Voodoo ground his jaw, eyes darting to the closed ballroom doors. “You’re saying she’s not the target? She’s the message.”

“Exactly,” Haley replied. “They want to shame the Senator. Show the world what his diplomacyreallycost.”

“How much time’s left on their deadline?” Pid asked.

“Five minutes,” Haley answered.

Mustang, who was stationed at the second set of doors in the same hall, nodded at Voodoo. “We hit hard and fast. Contain the tangos. Protect the hostages. You peel off and go for Nariman. We’ll handle the rest.”

Voodoo’s pulse thudded in his ears as the countdown began.“Breach in five . . . four . . .”

Voodoo’s grip tightened on the rifle. His pulse steadied as his focus locked in. Before the final second ticked off, he whispered under his breath, “Hold on for me, Savi. I’m coming.”

Three . . . two . . . one . . .

The loud pop of breaching charges sounded throughout the hotel. The doors blew inward with a concussive boom, and the SEALs stormed in like a tidal wave. The world exploded into noise and motion and he charged toward the woman who had already stolen his heart.

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