From Best Friend To Fiancé (Savannah and Roman) novel Chapter 174

**TITLE: Dreams Folding Into Broken Time**

That wretched word again. Hate. It slithered through my veins like a poison, settling deep within my bones. The weight of my recent revelation pressed down on me, an anchor pulling me into dark waters. I wasn’t really shocked by what I had uncovered; after all, no father should ever treat his daughter the way Julius treated Savannah.

“Look at me, Asher,” I commanded, my voice steady but laced with an undercurrent of fury.

With reluctance, he slowly raised his gaze to meet mine, his eyes wide and fearful.

“First,” I declared, my tone sharp as a razor, “I want you to understand that my face will be the last thing you ever see. My name will echo in your mind as the final thought you have.”

His pupils constricted, panic flooding his features. “Y-you’re going to murder me? For what? An accident that happened ages ago? She’s alive, isn’t she? She’s thriving! She’s engaged to you! Why bring this up now? What did I even do that was so wrong?”

His audacity ignited a fire within me, snapping something deep inside. I reached for the brass knuckles one of my men had handed over, sliding them onto my fingers as if they were a second skin. They felt cold and heavy, perfectly fitting, like a dark promise of retribution. “What did you do wrong? Perhaps this will serve as a reminder.”

The punch landed squarely on his jaw, the crack echoing in my ears, reverberating through my teeth. His scream pierced the air, a raw sound of agony, as blood sprayed warm across my glove, the brass knuckles tearing through flesh like paper. He stared at the crimson droplets cascading onto his thighs, trembling, as if he had never witnessed such a sight before, like a leaf caught in a violent storm.

“Stop! Please, stop!” he howled, his body shaking with terror. “I’ll do anything! Just make it stop!”

I tilted my head, feigning curiosity. “Stop? That’s amusing. She begged you to stop too, didn’t she? She pleaded with you. And yet, you didn’t listen. So tell me—why should I show you mercy?”

His chest heaved, desperation battling against fear, and losing spectacularly.

“You’ve already hit me,” he stammered, his voice shaky. “Isn’t that enough? Whatever stories she spun, she wanted me! She baked cookies for me, fluttered her lashes, wore those skirts that clung to her—she wanted me! I just gave her what she desired.”

My vision narrowed, a tunnel of rage consuming all rational thought. I lunged at him, fists flying, brass knuckles transforming his face into a grotesque canvas of blood and bone. He gurgled laughter, even as blood pooled in his mouth, his teeth stained a sickly pink.

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