“You need help, Savannah. And I’m done protecting you!” Then he pulled out his phone. Seconds later, two of his men walked in.
“Take her outside,” he ordered. “Make her kneel in the rain. She wants to act broken, let her look it too.”
They didn’t hesitate. Didn’t even blink.
One grabbed my arm. The other took the other side. I didn’t fight.
They dragged me out of the hospital room, through the lobby, and out into the wet afternoon, where the sky cracked open and poured like even heaven wanted to drown me.
They shoved me to my knees on the cold cement just outside the entrance. Rain soaked through my clothes. My hair clung to my face. My lip stung. My hands trembled. My stomach twisted.
I was kneeling.
In front of his men. His world.
And somehow, I didn’t cry.
Because something deeper than heartbreak was settling in. Something colder.
Something dangerous.
---
I don’t remember collapsing. One second I was kneeling in the rain, soaked to the bone, heart hollowed out, and the next... black.