From Best Friend To Fiancé (Savannah and Roman) novel Chapter 164

**TITLE: Dreams Folding Into Broken Time**

His palms crashed down onto the surface of his desk, sending a chaotic flurry of papers scattering into the air. The ice cream container tipped over, its contents spilling out like a forgotten dream. The sound reverberated through the room, slicing through the tension like a bolt of lightning. He rose from his chair, a towering figure cloaked in shadow, his face a mask of fury. His eyes glowed with an untamed fire, and the atmosphere around him thickened, darkening as if the very air was responding to his rage. Each step he took toward me was slow and calculated, reminiscent of a predator stalking its prey. Yet, in that moment, I stood my ground, refusing to yield.

“That animal didn’t just look at you the wrong way,” he spat, his voice rising with each syllable, “that animal didn’t merely steal the last piece of your favorite lipstick. No, that piece of trash did more than trample over you at the mall! That bastard raped you! He violated you in the most horrific way! He stripped everything away from you, and what did anyone else do? Nothing! Nobody lifted a finger! Except me!” His voice crescendoed, sharp and furious, echoing in the confines of the small room.

“Nobody but me. I am the only one who stood up for you. The only one who gave a damn about what you endured. The only one who cared enough to seek vengeance for what he did to you! I am the only one who loves you fiercely enough to fight for you! And if that makes me a criminal in your eyes, Savannah… then so be it! Because you know what? I would do it a million times over!”

My back pressed against the wall, the cool surface grounding me as his anger crashed over me like a tidal wave. My knees felt weak, locking in place to keep me upright. The room seemed to shrink around us, the lights overhead closing in, casting harsh shadows that danced ominously. It is one thing to harbor hatred, but it is an entirely different beast to witness someone you love transform into an executioner.

“And you want to stand there,” he snarled, his voice dripping with disdain, “and tell me I’m wrong? That I’m the monster here? Fine. But let me be clear: I don’t regret a single thing. Not the hit, not the pain, not his death. I would do it all again. Happily. Because he deserved every ounce of it. Because I love you enough to do what your family failed to do!”

“You’re insane,” I hissed back, my voice shaking with disbelief. “You’re saying that murdering someone is love?” I shot back, incredulous. “You’re justifying planning a hit, executing someone, all in the name of love? That’s your rationale?” The metallic taste of fear coated my tongue, my mouth trembling with the weight of my words.

“Yes,” he replied, his tone devoid of theatrics, now flat and deadly serious. “If love means going to war for you, if love means ensuring that the monster who hurt you never draws another breath—then yes, I would burn the world to the ground. And if my actions, born from my love for you, are the reason you’re reacting this way, then he did more damage to you than I ever feared—”

A sound escaped my throat, caught somewhere between a sob and a scream, raw and visceral. My hand moved before I could think, the crack of my palm against his cheek resonating through the room like a gunshot. The slap was fierce and clean, his head snapping to the side, a vivid red mark blooming in the wake of my fury.

We both froze in that moment, the air thick with tension. My hand tingled with the shock of my own actions, my chest heaving with the weight of my emotions, my eyes stinging with unshed tears.

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