"Baldwin!" a voice rang out above the hum of conversation.
Savannah turned with Blaze to see a tall man approaching them, exuding authority. He was older than Blaze, perhaps in his mid-fifties, with a sharp, intellectual gaze. His beard was neatly groomed, black with hints of silver, and his dark brown eyes held a knowing calm. His suit fit him like second skin, but Savannah noticed the real detail-something that flickered beneath the cuff of his sleeve.
A tattoo.
Her curiosity piqued.
"I'm so glad you're here," the man said, greeting Blaze with a firm handshake and a friendly pat on the shoulder.
"How could I miss your son's engagement?" Blaze replied easily, his voice warm and respectful.
So, they were at the engagement of Blaze's friend's son. That surprised Savannah—Blaze had never mentioned a friend, especially one he was this close to. She observed them closely. The ease between them hinted at a shared history. Trust.
"This lovely woman must be Savannah," the man said, turning to her with a gracious smile.
"How did you know?" she asked, her tone polite but curious.
The man chuckled knowingly. "You're hand-in-hand with him, standing close. Do I need any other clues?"
She offered a faint smile but pressed on, sharper this time. "I meant... my name. How did you know my name?"
The man's grin widened like someone who'd been caught mid-secret. "He talks about you more than our business deals," he said, casting a glance at Blaze.
Savannah turned to her husband. His eyes were already on her, filled with that familiar mask of adoration he wore so well. Love. Devotion. Lies. All tangled up in one complex expression.
Her focus snapped back to the man. "What's that tattoo on your wrist?" she asked suddenly, pointing at the ink that was only partially hidden.
The man blinked, taken aback.
Blaze tensed beside her. Arthur, standing a little way off, also shifted his weight, becoming subtly alert.
The man glanced down at his wrist, then at Blaze, and finally back at Savannah. There was a moment of silence.
"You've got sharp eyes," he finally said, loosening his cuff and carefully rolling up his sleeve.
As he did, the tattoo became visible: two grand black wings, intricately detailed, with feathers forming sharp, tribal patterns. The ink spiraled down his forearm in a controlled, deliberate manner.
"It's called the Black Wings," the man began.
Savannah's gaze was locked on it. Her voice, steady and clear, interrupted him. "You were a soldier."
In that instant, the entire circle seemed to freeze.
The man halted mid-sentence.
A hush surrounded them.
He turned to her, brows raised in visible disbelief. "How did you know that?"
It wasn't a question filled with suspicion, but rather one of wonder. The kind of wonder you feel when someone sees through years of hidden truths in just one look.
Savannah simply tilted her head. "Just know," she said cryptically, her tone unreadable.
The man nodded slowly, almost with a newfound respect.
The people around them, even those pretending not to listen, were now focused on her. They were watching Blaze too. Even Arthur looked a bit taken aback.
"Where's the restroom?" Savannah asked suddenly, breaking the tension.
"I'll show you," Blaze responded immediately.
But before he could move, his friend chimed in. "The event's starting, Baldwin. You're needed."
Savannah turned to Blaze, noticing the quiet panic in his eyes. She understood he didn't want her out of his sight.
"I'll be quick," she reassured him, her voice soft yet firm.
"Please—"
"Blaze," she said again, this time with a sense of finality.
And with that, she released his hand—the warmth between them fading away.
She turned and walked away, her silhouette weaving through the crowd like a whisper of silk.
Blaze stood still, his gaze locked on her retreating figure.
Just then, Elijah entered through the main doors, looking a bit winded.
"Boss," he said, hurrying over.
"What took you so long?" Blaze asked, irritation creeping into his tone.
"There was an emergency at the warehouse."
"Is it sorted?"
"Yes."
Blaze's eyes remained glued to the hallway where Savannah had just vanished.
"Be by her side," he instructed Elijah. "She went to the restroom. Don't let her out of your sight. Stay put outside the restroom corridor."
Without a moment's pause, Elijah nodded respectfully and headed down the corridor, disappearing into the dimly lit passage where Savannah had gone.
Blaze stayed put, his expression unreadable—still, but far from calm.
A tempest raged beneath that calm exterior.
Restroom
The restroom was eerily quiet—too quiet for a place that buzzed with life just outside.
Savannah stood before the marble sink, her hands pressed against the cool surface. The reflection staring back at her felt foreign, as if it wasn't really her.
Her breath hitched, her chest rising and falling in shallow waves. She placed a trembling hand over her heart, trying to soothe the storm brewing inside. Her lips, painted a perfect red, felt parched and fragile. With shaking fingers, she reached for a tissue, dabbing at the corners of her eyes. She hadn't cried, but it was a close call.
What had just happened replayed in her mind like a broken film reel.
That man. His tattoo. The way she instinctively knew.
And more than that—the way everyone had looked at her after she spoke.
How did she know? It was puzzling, even to her. It felt like a faint echo of something buried deep within, something instinctual. Like a soldier spotting a fellow comrade. But it was more than just recognition—it was a haunting reminder. Of what she had hidden away. Of what she had lost. Theodore.
Ten minutes ticked by. Maybe even longer.
Finally, regaining her composure, Savannah straightened up. She smoothed her dress, touched up her lipstick, and stepped out of the restroom.
But the instant the door clicked shut behind her—
"You?"
Savannah's voice rang out as she stumbled back in surprise.
Elijah leaned against the wall opposite the door, arms casually crossed, his eyes scanning the corridor until they found her.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice cautious and steady.
"Boss called in." Elijah replied, his tone firm. "To be by your side."
Savannah studied him for a moment, then nodded slowly and began walking down the corridor—her heels clicking softly against the polished floor, the sound echoing in the dim, golden light that lined the walls like warm veins in the otherwise quiet hall.
Elijah followed, his steps heavier but deliberate.
And then—
"What are you doing?" he asked.
She slowed her pace, glancing back slightly. "Who?"
"You, Savannah," Elijah repeated, his voice lower now. Serious. Concerned.
Savannah turned her gaze forward, her tone dry. "What do you think I'm doing?"
"You tell me."
"I'm attending an engagement party," she replied coolly, almost too casually. "Isn't that what I'm supposed to be doing?"
But Elijah wasn't convinced.
In two quick strides, he was beside her, and before she could protest, he reached out, gently but firmly grasping her wrist. Savannah stiffened, startled, her brows knitting together.
"Elijah—what are you doing?"
Author's Note :
Thankyou for reading<3
Have a good day/night<3<3