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“Yes, I seem to remember it was her birthday or something.” He put a bony finger to his lips.
“I didn’t know they put her back with you. I’m surprised they did that after the report we filed with the police.”
Marcus gave her a stony look. “That silly little thing? The cops never took that seriously.” His eyes never left her face. "Well, if there's nothing else, I really should be getting back to work."
“And what is your work?” asked Savannah, blowing on her tea to cool it and taking another sip. It’s not like she wanted to drink it—she was just doing anything she could not to scream at the man. If she screamed at him, she had no chance of getting the information she was after.
Marcus sneered at her. “You’ve come here with a lot of questions, haven’t you, girlie? It better not be true what they say about you.”
“And what do they say about me?”
“That you’re a snoop,” he spat.
Savannah laughed. “You know nothing about who I am, Marcus. You never did.” She set down her cup and stood up. "Thank you for the tea."
"Anytime, my dear," he replied, that sinister smile still plastered on his face. "You're always welcome here."
Savannah's heart pounded in her chest, her panic rising as the room began to spin. She tried to focus on Marcus, but the effort made her dizzy. Her thoughts swirled like leaves caught in a whirlwind. She needed to get out of here.
“Which . . . way . . . is . . . the door?” she stammered.
With a sudden burst of adrenaline, she lurched to her feet, intending to bolt for the door. But as she stood, a wave of dizziness crashed over her, and her legs betrayed her.
"Wh-what's happening?" she gasped, grabbing onto the table for support.
Marcus smirked, his sinister smile widening. "Oh, Savannah," he taunted. "You were always such easy prey."
Her vision blurred, and her strength waned. As unconsciousness claimed her, Savannah's last coherent thought was a desperate plea for help—a silent call for her Daddy Dom to come to her rescue.
Chapter seventeen
BLAKE
The moon hung low over Chicago, casting a somber glow on the streets as Blake sped through them, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew Savannah was out there somewhere, and he had to find her before it was too late.
He started with her old apartment in West Garfield Park. He was about to ring the buzzer when he looked up at the window and saw a woman standing up there with a baby in her arms. Then a man came up behind her, giving her a kiss on her neck. So, a family occupied the space now.
The one thing Savannah always wanted for herself.
Desperation clawed at him. Where the hell had she gone?
He raced to the bridge where he'd first seen her years ago, hoping against hope she'd be there for some reason. Maybe to revisit the past? To go back to the point where her life and Blake’s had first intersected? A way of trying to reclaim her independence, somehow?
Truthfully, there was another reason Blake needed to check this spot. This was the same bridge Chloe's body was foundunder. A chilling reminder of why he couldn't fail to find Savannah.
But she wasn't there.
"Shit," he whispered, frustration mounting. As he turned to leave, a woman's cry pierced the night air. Without hesitation, he sprinted toward the sound.
"Get off me!" the woman screamed, struggling against the man who pinned her to the ground.
"Hey! You piece of shit!" Blake roared, grabbing the attacker by the collar and yanking him off the woman. The woman had dark skin and black hair—definitely not Savannah, but that didn’t matter. Blake didn’t wantanywoman to suffer. Not for one fucking moment.
"Back off, asshole," sneered the guy at him. “I’ve got a knife.”
“And I’ve got a fucking fist,” growled Blake. He threw a punch, connecting with the guy's jaw, and then another, fueled by the anger that coursed through him. The man crumpled to the ground, gasping and whimpering.
"Try that again, and I'll make sure it's the last thing you ever do," he growled, breathing heavily from the adrenaline pumping through his veins.
