“I don’t know what I thought this was, but seeing as how I didn’t even know your fucking name, I guess I can’t be surprised.”

I’m almost to the door when his hands are around my waist and I’m against the wall in the next breath. He boxes me in, his hands planted on either side of my face, daring me to move. “You know my name,” he grits through his teeth. “You scream it every fucking night. Now you want to fuck with me because I don’t talk to you, but what about you, Savannah?” He draws out my name, and I feel my lip tremble.

Nope. He will not make me cry. Another promise to myself. I will never let a man make me cry again.

He grabs my leg, his thumb brushing over the almost-healed tattoo. “What about this, huh? You want me to talk, so where did you get this? What are you running from?”

His lips are just inches from my face, and I hate how much I love the feel of his breath on my mouth.

“You want to know how I got it?” I bite back, a question I don’t expect him to answer. “My ex was a narcissistic asshole, part of a cartel in Newport. I would have done anything to get out, to get away from him. One night we were in the car, and I knew that the only way I could get away from him would be to end it.”

His hands lower so that he’s still pressing my body to the wall but no longer boxing me in. The hardness in his expression softens, begging me to continue.

“He never let me leave his sight. Never.” Tears prick my eyes as I speak. “One night, he was driving, and I just looked at him and realized I couldn’t take another moment. I would rather die than stay with him, so when we approached a bridge…”

“No,” he mumbles, touching my chin.

“I did the only thing I could. I grabbed his arm and pulled our car straight through the guard rail and into the water.”

“Jesus,” he mutters, stepping away and walking away from me. When he turns back, the look in his eye is scrutinizing, like he’s searching my face for the familiar features of the girl I was just a few moments ago. He didn’t think I was capable of something like this. Well, neither did I.

“We both tried to scramble out, but I used my heel to break my window. It broke at a weird angle though so when I climbed through, my leg caught on the broken glass.”

“What happened to him?” he asked.