From Best Friend To Fiancé (Savannah and Roman) novel Chapter 431

Chapter 243: This Is Real

Reese

“I’ll go get my things.”

Elizabeth said it like the world wasn’t collapsing in on itself. Like

Roman hadn’t just been reduced to a body breathing by machines.

Like the word coma hadn’t detonated something ugly and irreversible

inside my chest.

She said it like she didn’t realize that things had gotten dangerous.

She turned toward the hallway, already moving, already planning.

Panic clung to her movements–too fast, too sharp–but underneath

it was resolve. The kind that got people killed.

My mind lagged behind reality.

Roman was unconscious. Roman was at the manor.

Those two facts refused to exist together in my head. They collided,

over and over, like blunt objects smashing into bone. I stood there,

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staring at nothing, my vision blurring at the edges as if my brain was

trying to protect me by shutting the hell down.

How did it happen so fast?

One minute we were stable–barely, but still breathing—and the next

everything was chaos. No warning. No preparation. Just violence,

blood, and consequences stacked on consequences.

Everything was ruined now. Every plan we’d made. Every contingency.

Scrapped. Useless.

We were reacting now, not controlling anything anymore. And in our

world, reaction was actually how people died. It was the first step to

the grave.

“Reese!” Elizabeth stamped her foot, the sound sharp against the

floor. Childish. Out of place. It grated against my skull. “What are you

doing just standing there? There’s no time!”

I heard Savannah’s voice in my head instead. Not the words she’d said

but the meaning behind them.

You know what this means.

Yeah. I knew exactly what it meant.

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I also knew why Elizabeth couldn’t come anywhere near Blackwood

Manor. Why Savannah hadn’t even hesitated before making that call.

Why we had arrived at the same conclusion without needing to say it

out loud.

Elizabeth was a liability. A well–meaning, soft–hearted, stubborn

liability with a talent for walking straight into danger blindly because

she lived for the thrill of adventure.

This wasn’t an adventure. This wasn’t a fun trip. This was real life.

And if I had to be mean to drum it into her ears, then that’s what I’ll

1. be.

“No need,” I said flatly. “You’re not going anywhere.”

She stopped mid–step. The pause was slow. When she turned around,

her brows were drawn together in confusion that rapidly sharpened

into irritation.

“What are you saying?” She shook her head, already dismissing me,

and tried to walk past. “Now’s not the time for games, Reese.”

I moved into her path.

“You don’t see me playing games, do you?” I said. My voice was dead, stripped of warmth. “You’re going back home. I’m dead serious,

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Elizabeth.”

Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

“You’re not putting your life at risk just because you want to feel

useful. Or important. Or because you’re chasing some rush you don’t

even understand,” I continued. “Not happening.”

She stared at me, stunned.

“If you’re that desperate for excitement,” I added, cruelty slipping in

sharply, “go visit a zoo. Or a haunted house. Something safe.

Anything that doesn’t involve bullets and body bags. This isn’t a

thrill ride, Elizabeth. Roman is in a coma.”

Her jaw tightened.

“This isn’t about you, Elizabeth.”

For a long second, she just looked at me. Then her expression shifted,

Not fear. Not confusion. It was understanding. And with it came

anger.

“Is this because of yesterday?” she asked quietly.

I felt something twist in my gut.

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