Chapter 42: Words, Savannah.

Roman stands, then begins walking back and forth, like a professor addressing his students. It suddenly felt like I was in a lecture hall. “I'm getting a picture here, Sav.” He stopped mid-stride, pivoted, and fixed me with that infuriatingly calm stare of his. “He comes to me, showing me the video and spewing these wild accusations against you. Then he goes to you, waving around that list like it's the answer to world peace. Are you thinking what I'm thinking?” My brain kicked into overdrive, working faster than the intelligence department—hell, faster than a caffeine-addicted conspiracy theorist at 3 a.m. The more I lined the pieces up, the more obvious it became. “He's trying to break us apart.” I blurted out. “Exactly.” Roman’s voice dropped, dark and certain, “That son of a bitch.” How dare Dean try to do something so nasty? The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. That was way below the belt and it sickens me that he'd resort to such petty tactics to see me miserable. The