From Best Friend To Fiancé (Savannah and Roman) novel Chapter 198

**Chapter 198: Here We Go Again**

“I swear to God, Dean, if you even think about pulling any funny business, I will not hesitate to spray your creepy ass with this pepper spray until you can’t breathe.”

The words burst from my lips, sharper than I intended, fueled by the adrenaline coursing through me. The canister nestled in my bag felt heavier, its cold metal pressing into my palm as I gripped it tightly, my knuckles aching from the tension.

He turned his head sharply toward me, his expression a mix of disbelief and indignation. “Pepper spray?” His laughter was devoid of any real humor, a hollow sound that echoed in the cramped car. “Are you fucking serious right now? You really don’t trust me?”

I shot him a glare that could cut glass, determined not to let him see the fear that threatened to creep into my heart. “Try me, Dean, and you’ll find out exactly how serious I am.”

For a fleeting moment, his jaw hung open in shock, then he snapped it shut with a decisive click. He shook his head slowly, as if trying to comprehend the absurdity of my words. “Unbelievable. I can’t believe we’ve reached this point.”

“Well, you’d better start believing it,” I retorted, my voice sharper than I intended.

The atmosphere in the car felt stifling, too small, too hot. Every breath he took seemed to fill my lungs with a weight that made it hard to breathe. His grip on the steering wheel tightened, the leather creaking under the pressure of his fingers, yet I caught the flicker of something in his eyes—desperation, perhaps, or a hint of vulnerability.

“How the hell did I even become your sworn enemy?” he asked, his voice low but thick with unspoken questions. “Look around you, Sav. I am not the bad guy here.”

A bitter laugh escaped my lips, full of disbelief. “Oh really? My mistake. I must have confused you for someone else.”

His nostrils flared, and for a moment, it seemed like he wanted to unleash a torrent of words, but he held back, biting his tongue. Silence hung heavily between us, the only sound the steady hum of the engine, a reminder of the tension crackling in the air.

The car swerved slightly as his grip on the wheel tightened, his knuckles turning white. “Really?” he spat, his voice trembling with barely contained rage. “You want to talk about lies? Didn’t you start this whole damn thing as a charade to get my attention?”

I rolled my eyes, the motion so exaggerated it almost hurt. My hands shot up in exasperation. “Here we go again. Jesus, Dean, my world doesn’t revolve around you. Get your head out of your ass. It’s been a good minute since us—if you haven’t noticed, there’s something called moving on. Maybe you should try it sometime.”

His laughter was bitter, tinged with resentment. “If you didn’t notice, Savannah, that’s exactly what I was doing until your bimbo sister dragged all this shit to my doorstep.”

My blood turned to ice, and my fingers curled into fists at my sides. “Well, if you didn’t conspire with her to hurt me, there wouldn’t have been any shit to begin with.” I shot back, my voice sharp as a knife. “Don’t you dare act like you’re innocent in all this.”

The muscles in his neck tensed, and silence enveloped him like a thick fog. His hands flexed against the steering wheel repeatedly, the leather groaning under the strain. For the first time during this tumultuous ride, he didn’t retaliate. He simply stared straight ahead, jaw clenched, eyes narrowed, lost in a storm of his own making.