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She takes it, looking up at me, then back down to the screen filled with thumbnail images.
Before she clicks on the first image, causing it to fill the screen, I move around so I’m standing behind her. This ensures she can’t get up and run again. But it also makes it so I don’t see her expression.
Her shoulders stiffen as she looks at her parents.
I listen to her breathing hitch as she swipes, over and over, seeing image after image.
Close, far, candid, formal. Photos clearly from social media. Photos clearly not from social media, ones meant to stay private.
Photos with her.
Photos of houses she’d recognize.
Photos of cars she’d recognize.
And then, the next time she swipes, the photos change.
Burnt shells of buildings.
Scorched vehicles.
Blood stains on concrete.
Alliance hits.
When her hands start to shake so bad that she has trouble swiping to the next image I lean over her shoulder and turn my monitors on. And all at once, her personal life appears before her eyes.
Her house. Her minivan. Her income history. Her current bank statements. Her phone logs. Her dating profiles, that haven’t been active for nearly a year. Her driving record. Her medical history.
The sound that leaves her is nothing short of devastated. A combination of a cry and a whimper.
I lean back over her, turning the screens off and taking the tablet from her grip.
“You’ll marry me.” My voice is steady, but I’m glad her head is tipped down and she can’t see my face. Because I’m certain my expression shows the disgust I feel toward myself.
Savannah nods. It’s slow and jerky, but it’s an agreement.
It’s what I wanted.
CHAPTER19
Savannah
My chest hurts.
Is this what a heart attack feels like?
My ribcage feels tight.
Maybe I’m dying.
I try to breathe.
If I just died right now, would King let it all go?
Part of my brain hears a chime echo through the house. And part of my brain recognizes King’s footsteps as he walks out of the room. But I can’t move.
I should run, but I can’t move.
