From Best Friend To Fiancé (Savannah and Roman) novel Chapter 422

Chapter 422

Then suddenly, one of them spoke. “Walt,” the paramedic said sharply. “Hold on.”

Everything froze. Including time.

He leaned closer to the monitor, eyes narrowing. “I’ve got something.”

Another heartbeat later, he spoke again. “There,” he said. “Pulse. We have a pulse.”

A pulse.

The word hit me like oxygen after drowning.

I collapsed forward, clutching Roman’s hand, sobbing hysterically. “Oh God,” I cried. “Thank you–thank you–please–please keep him—”

The ambulance screeched into the hospital minutes later, and everything blurred.

They rushed him away from me immediately, shouting medical jargon I couldn’t follow as the doors to the emergency room slammed shut in my face.

I dropped to the floor pathetically, sobbing my heart out.

I don’t remember when Alyssa arrived. Or when my mother and Jace followed. I only remember arms wrapping around me as I screamed, my body folding inward like it was trying to disappear.

“He’s fighting for his life,” I sobbed. “I shot him–he was going to die because of me-”

“Savannah,” Alyssa whispered, stroking my hair as I shook uncontrollably. Emily clung to her side, eyes wide and frightened. “Please–try

to breathe.”

“I don’t care about breathing!” I screamed. “I care about Roman!”

My mother knelt in front of me, tears streaming down her face. “Sweetheart,” she pleaded. “You have to calm down. You’re pregnant.

Think about the baby.”

“I don’t care!” I sobbed. “I just want him alive–please–I just want him alive–”

Jace stood helplessly nearby, his face drawn and haunted. “Savannah,” he said softly. “He’s strong. He’ll fight. I know he’ll survive this.

“But what if he doesn’t?” I screamed. “What if he leaves me? What if he never wakes up? What if my baby never knows their father?” My voice broke completely as a terrifying thought slammed into me.

10.49 Sun, Jan 4

Chapter 422

What if he already never would?

I looked down at myself then. At my hands. At my clothes. They were soaked in blood.

Roman’s blood.

Sticky, dark, everywhere–on my palms, my arms, smeared across me like proof of what I’d done.

A sob tore out of me so violently I nearly retched. “I did this,” I whispered. “I did this to him.”

Hours passed. Or minutes. Time lost meaning as I sat in that sterile waiting room, staring at the closed doors that had swallowed Roman whole. Every second stretched endlessly, each one threatening to snap me apart.

Surgery. They were still in surgery. Removing bullets. Stopping the bleeding. Saving his life. Or trying to.

I prayed. I begged. I whispered promises to God that I didn’t even know how to keep.

I pressed my hands to my stomach, trembling. “Please,” I whispered to the baby inside me. “Please keep your father here. Please.”

But that moment didn’t last long because the one person I never expected to see today was presently making his way towards me. And he looked like he was going to murder me.

Footsteps echoed down the hall. Heavy, measured, authoritative footsteps.

My head snapped up.

General Reginald Blackwood walked into the waiting room, his presence commanding immediate attention. His cane struck the floor with every step, that slight limp unmistakable, his face looked like it was carved from literal stone.

Cassandra trailed behind him, her eyes sharp and assessing, taking everything in. Including me.

Fear crawled up my spine immediately as I rose up.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify