He’d Declared War
Chapter 275: He'd Declared War
Roman
She looked away and didn’t answer. That alone set something vicious loose inside my chest.
“Savannah,” I said slowly, my voice low, tight, coiled like a warning shot, “if I have to repeat myself again, I’m—”
“It was Ryan.” Reese’s voice cut in sharp and abrupt, like ripping a bandage off a wound that hadn’t even started healing yet.
Savannah still didn’t look at me. Her arms were folded tight against her chest, shoulders drawn in, as if she were bracing for impact that had already happened and might happen again.
The room went dead silent.
I stared at Reese. “What?” The word came out wrong. Flat. Disbelieving. “What did you just say?”
Reese didn’t blink. Didn’t soften it. “Ryan.”
The name hit me harder than any bullet ever had.
I let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “No. That doesn’t make any sense. Why the hell would Ryan try to strangle you? If he has issues with anyone, it's me. Not you.”
Still, Savannah didn’t look at me.
Finally—finally—she unfolded her arms. Slowly. Like each movement cost her something. She turned, resting her weight against the edge of the bed instead of sitting, as if she didn’t trust herself to stay steady.
“Why would he try to strangle me?” she repeated quietly. Then her lips curved into something bitter. Ugly. Not a smile. “Maybe because I was dumb enough to think I’d get away with threatening him.”
The words rang in my ears. Threatening him. Ryan.
My vision tunneled.
Everything about this was wrong. Twisted. Upside down. Ryan was reckless, sure. Quick to fly into rage. Arrogant. Entitled. But putting his hands on her? On my fiancée? Over my dead fucking body.
I didn’t even remember deciding to move.
One second I was lying there, trapped in this useless, healing body that refused to obey me. The next, I was throwing the covers off myself, swinging my legs over the side of the bed for the first time since I’d woken up.
For the first time in… hell. Forever.
Pain ripped through me instantly—white-hot, blinding—but I welcomed it. Pain meant I was alive. Pain meant I could still move. Pain meant I wasn’t helpless.
Savannah’s eyes went wide. “Roman, no!”
Reese was at my side in a second, gripping my arm, forcing me back before I could stand. “What the hell are you doing?!” he barked. “Do you have any idea how long you were in a coma?”
“Get off me,” I growled, trying to shove him away.
“Are you insane?” Savannah said, panic sharp in her voice now. “You shouldn’t even be standing!”
“Ryan laid his hands on you,” I snapped. “I’ll make him regret his entire existence.” The words felt calm coming out.
Reese tightened his grip. “Don’t be stupid, Roman.”
“I said let me go,” I warned, my voice dropping into something dangerous.
“You want to fight him?” Savannah shot back. “Are you out of your mind?”
“Yes!” I roared.
The sound tore out of me, raw and furious, echoing off the walls. My chest burned. My stitches pulled painfully, but I didn’t give a damn.
“Jesus Christ! What the hell happened while I was gone, Sav? What are you not telling me? How have they been treating you? Have they been putting their hands on you?”
Savannah exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down her face.
“Roman, please,” she said, turning fully toward me now. Her voice softened—but that somehow made it worse. “Please don’t start a fight. I’m begging you.”
Begging. That word hit harder than the rest. She's begging me not to fight for her? How outrageous. I'll keep on fighting for her. And not even she herself can stop me.
“She’s right,” Reese said firmly. “You’re not in any condition to do this. We just got you back. Your wounds haven’t even healed.” He gestured to my torso.
Savannah followed his gaze. And her face immediately drained of color. “You’re bleeding.”
Reese looked down, swore under his breath. “Shit. Savannah—call the doctor. Now.”
She bolted.
I barely had time to register the warm, wet sensation spreading beneath the bandages before the door burst open again. A doctor rushed in, followed by two nurses, their movements fast and practiced.
Hands were on me. Scissors snipped. Bandages came off. Pain flared as air hit exposed skin.
Savannah stood frozen a few feet away, her hands clamped over her mouth, eyes wide with horror.
Reese paced the room, running a hand through his hair, muttering curses under his breath as the medical team worked.
I stared at the ceiling.
I hated this.
I hated the smell of antiseptic.
I hated the way everyone hovered.
I hated the way my body betrayed me.
I hated being weak.
“I’m not a fucking invalid,” I snapped as the doctor started listing off things I wasn’t supposed to be doing.
No exertion. No stress. No exercise. No sex.
Fantastic. Old cockblocker.
“Sir,” the doctor said calmly, unfazed, “your wounds have not healed yet. Any pressure you exert is going to cause the stitches to—”
“When can I leave here?” I cut in.
He blinked. “Leave?”
“Yes. Leave.” I glared at him. “When can I go home?”
He sputtered, clearly not expecting that. “Well—your wounds are still fresh. You need supervision—”
“I said I want to go home,” I snapped. “When.”
The doctor glanced helplessly between Savannah and Reese, clearly hoping one of them would rein me in.
“Roman,” Savannah said sharply.
Reese stepped forward quickly. “He means when he can be transferred back to his bedroom. Not this medical wing.”
I shot Reese a glare sharp enough to cut glass. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Yes, it is,” Savannah said immediately, stepping closer. “When he can move back into his bedroom.”
I turned to her. “Great. You too?”
She didn’t look at me.
“Well,” the doctor said slowly, “he does seem alert. Oriented. Himself—which is remarkable, considering. He can move into a regular bedroom today.”
Reese nodded once.
I scoffed. “Great.”
The doctor turned back to me. “Mr. Blackwood, I must strongly advise caution. Avoid overexertion. Avoid stress. You’ve been in a coma for two weeks, your body needs time to adjust. Do not push it.”
I glared at him.
“Thank you, doctor,” Savannah said quickly.
He nodded and left. The room felt smaller after that.
I scoffed. “Fuck him. Old clown.”
“Roman,” Savannah said. “That’s not a nice thing to say.”
“Do I look like I give a damn about being nice?”
She took a breath. “He’s one of the good ones. The other doctor works for your father. He might be an old clown, but at least he’s uncorrupted.”
“I don’t care,” I snapped. “All I care about is Ryan.” My jaw clenched so hard it hurt. “I swear to God, Charlotte won’t recognize him when I’m done.”
“Roman—”
“I know,” I cut in. “When I’m healed. I’ve heard it. That’s the only reason that bastard is still breathing.”
Silence fell.
Reese cleared his throat. “I’ll tell the staff to prepare your room.”
Savannah nodded.
As he turned to leave, something else surfaced. Something I hadn’t let myself think about until now.
“Reese.”
He stopped.
“Change the bed,” I said quietly. “I want a new one.”
He didn’t ask why. He just nodded once. “I know.” The door closed behind him.
Savannah stayed where she was.
The anger was still there—burning, violent—but beneath it, something colder settled in.
Ryan hadn’t just crossed acted impulsively. He’d declared war.
And the moment I was strong enough to stand on my own again, I would end it.