Page 133 of Made for Wilde

Adrian’s voice is shaking and tears stream down his face.

“I did everything right. I waited. I watched. She should’ve picked me.”

He’s losing it.

I see the exact moment Adrian makes his final decision. His eyes go dead, the wildness replaced by something cold and final.He slowly turns the gun from Charlotte’s head toward his own temple.

“If I can’t have her, then?—”

I pull the trigger.

The gunshot explodes through the small room at the same instant Adrian’s weapon discharges. His head snaps backward as my bullet tears through his chest, blood blooming across his white shirt like a crimson flower. His body crumples, hitting the floor with a wet thud that echoes in the sudden silence.

I’m moving before he’s fully down, my gun still trained on his motionless form as I rush to Charlotte. My hands shake as I tear at the duct tape binding her wrists to the chair.

“Baby, are you hurt?” My voice comes out rough, desperate. “Did he touch you? Are you okay?”

Charlotte sobs against my chest as I pull the tape from her mouth. Her whole body trembles, but she’s alive. She’s breathing. She’s here.

“I’m okay,” she gasps between tears. “I’m okay. The baby?—”

“How’s the baby?” I cup her face, searching her eyes for any sign of pain or distress. “Charlotte, how’s our baby?”

“She’s moving. She’s okay, I think she’s okay.” Her hands press against her stomach, protective and desperate. “Koda, I was so scared?—”

“I know, baby. I know. But you’re safe now. You’re both safe.”

Heavy footsteps thunder down the hallway, echoing off the walls like gunfire. I position myself between Charlotte and the door, my weapon raised despite the burning agony in my ribs.

“Police! Drop your weapon!”

I set my gun on the floor and raise my hands as three officers burst through the doorway, weapons drawn. Behind them, Dana pushes past the cops like she owns the place.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I ask her.

“I saw your truck in the parking lot,” Dana says, breathless. “And Charlotte’s car. Then the emergency vehicles started showing up.” Her voice cracks. “What happened?”

I gesture toward Adrian’s body. “He had a gun to her head.”

Dana’s gaze takes in the scene—the overturned chair, the duct tape, the blood spreading beneath Adrian’s still form. When she looks back at us, tears shine in her eyes. I can’t remember the last time I saw my sister cry.

“Oh, no!” She moves toward us, her heels clicking against the concrete floor. “Charlotte, honey, are you hurt?”

“I’m okay,” Charlotte whispers, but her body trembles against mine.

Dana wraps her arms around both of us, pulling us into a fierce embrace. Her expensive perfume mingles with the metallic scent of blood and fear.

“I was so scared,” she murmurs into our shoulders. “When I saw all the police cars...”

Paramedics push through the crowd of officers, their equipment rattling as they roll a stretcher into the room. The lead EMT, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes, approaches us.

“Ma’am, I’m going to need to check you over,” she tells Charlotte. “Any injuries? Any pain?”

“I don’t think so.” Charlotte pulls back from my arms reluctantly. “But I’m pregnant. Five months.”

“Let’s get you to the hospital as a precaution,” the EMT says, already guiding Charlotte toward the stretcher. “Make sure everything’s okay with the baby.”

My chest tightens as they help Charlotte lie down, her small frame dwarfed by the medical equipment. I should feel relief—it’s over, she’s safe—but all I can think about is how close I came to losing everything.