Chapter 203 She Didn't Fire Savannah Roman didn’t warn us. There was no shout, no more threats, no pause in his breathing. The room was already shaking with screams, and then, a piercing blast detonated through the apartment, swallowing every other sound. Roman acted before I even processed what was about to happen. Chloe screamed—a raw, animalistic sound that tore straight through my skull. I stumbled back, slapping a hand over my mouth as my eyes landed on her hand… or what was left of it after the bullet seemed to graze her index finger. Blood gushed between her fingers, splattering across the carpet in violent drops. “Oh my God! Oh my—Roman, what did you do?” My voice broke on the last word. He didn’t answer. He didn’t even blink. His jaw was locked so tight that a vein pulsed dangerously at the side of his neck. Rage radiated off him. Dark, savage, volatile rage. I could feel it. “Are you insane?!” Chloe shrieked, clutching her trembling hand as the blood dripped faster. “You—you shot me! You actually shot me, Roman! How dare you?!—” Paula crawled forward to Chloe's legs, face twisted. “Call the police! Call the damn police, Chloe! Tell them there’s an insane man with a gun—” Roman raised the weapon again. I gasped and grabbed his arm, whispering. “Roman—stop. Enough. Please. She’s bleeding, she’s—” “Call Zane,” he said to Chloe, his voice low and barely containing his rage. “Right now.” Chloe spat at him through her sobs. “Go to hell!” “Roman,” I whispered, tugging the gun down. “This isn’t the way—” “Wrong answer, Chloe,” he muttered. Then another shot exploded. I screamed, my ears ringing as I stumbled back. Paula let out a blood-curdling wail and fell back on the floor, clutching her thigh as crimson soaked through her jeans, her broken nose now forgotten. “My—my leg! You shot me! You bastard, you SHOT me!” The sound of her agony scraped against my nerves. My head spun. The room tilted. All I could smell was blood—thick, metallic, suffocating. “Pick up the phone,” Roman said coldly. “Or the next bullet goes through your skull. And I don't miss, Chloe.” Chloe froze. Just basically froze. Then, with her good hand shaking violently, she grabbed the phone and fumbled the digits, tears streaking down her face in messy lines. “I—I’m calling, I’m calling!” she cried. “Don't shoot her!” She pressed it to her ear. Nothing. Then her eyes widened. “He’s not picking up!” she sobbed. “Keep calling until he does,” Roman snapped. There was no softness in him. No warmth. No trace of the man who held me this morning like I was the most breakable thing in the world. His gaze didn’t touch me even once. And it terrified me. My heart pounded so hard I thought it might bruise my ribs. Sweat trickled down my spine. But as I stared at Chloe with her eyes dilated, her breathing uneven, her voice slurred… and I saw it. The too-wide pupils. The eerie lack of pain. The sloppy swaying. Chloe was truly high. So high she probably didn’t even realize she’d been shot. And that single realization chilled me to the bone. “Roman,” I whispered, “she needs a hospital. Paula too. They’re losing too much blood.” He didn’t answer me. Instead, his gaze cut to me briefly—just briefly—before he said, “Take out my phone, baby. Call Alonzo. Tell him to come in.” Come in? I didn’t understand, but my hands were trembling too badly to question him. I dug through his pocket, grabbed the phone, dialed Alonzo’s contact, and barely got the words out. “Roman says you should come in.” Less than a minute later, a heavy knock hit the door and Roman nodded at me. “Go. Open it, baby.” My legs felt like wet spaghetti as I crossed the room. I braced myself for Alonzo. But it wasn’t Alonzo. Three massive men stepped into the apartment. All dressed in black. Black shirts, black pants, expressionless faces. They looked more like shadows than actual people. Not doctors. Not medics. Backup.I stumbled sideways as they walked past me, their boots thudding against the floor without hesitation, without even glancing at the puddles of blood. One of them crouched near Paula without flinching when she screamed. Another grabbed Chloe’s hand and inspected it like he’d seen this a thousand times. My stomach lurched as the metallic smell got more present in the room. I swear I even heard the wet sound of blood. The steady stream dripped onto the carpet. My throat tightened. Then the nausea hit me too fast to fight. I gagged, slapped a hand over my mouth and immediately bolted to the trash can in the corner. My entire breakfast came up in violent heaves. “Savannah.” Roman’s voice softened instantly, snapping out of whatever trance he had been in. He dropped the gun on the table so fast it clattered loudly. In two strides he was at my side, sweeping my hair back, his palm on my spine. “Hey, hey. It’s alright, baby. I’m right here.” I spat, coughing. “God… the smell…” “I know.” He stroked my back gently. “I’m really sorry you had to see that.” I wiped my mouth shakily. “Water,” I whispered. “Please.”Roman turned toward Chloe like a storm shifting directions and barked, “where’s the water?!” She flinched, pointing weakly toward the fridge. “Th-there.” He moved faster than I could blink, snatching a bottle and uncapping it. He held it to my lips, eyes filled with worry. After rinsing my mouth, I exhaled shakily, wiping my lips with the back of my hand. Roman cupped my cheek. “Better?” I nodded, though I wasn’t sure if I meant it. My eyes flicked to Chloe and Paula—to the bloody mess Roman had created. The men stitching and pulling and pressing. An absolute nightmare. “You shot them,” I whispered. “Roman, you shot Chloe.” His expression hardened again, instantly. “They pointed a gun at you,” he said flatly. “You think I’m going to stand there and wait for them to pull the trigger?” “But they didn't.” I said. “Paula pointed a gun, yes. But she didn’t fire. And you fired two shots, Roman—” “She lifted her hand toward you.” His jaw tightened. “She would’ve fired. And besides, I wasn’t going to let them play games with us, Savannah. I was simply reacting to their silliness.” The firmness in his voice. The conviction. It silenced the words on my tongue. He wasn’t unhinged. He was deadly. There’s a difference. And that difference scared me more than anything. “Roman…” I whispered, touching his cheek lightly, trying to ground both of us. “I just… I just want all this to end. I want us to go home. I want peace.” His face softened at my touch and he leaned in slightly. “We’ll be home soon,” he murmured, lifting my hand to his lips. “I promise, my love.” He leaned in to kiss me, but instinct kicked in and I recoiled slightly. “Roman, I literally just threw up.” His mouth twitched. “I don’t care.” He cupped my neck and pulled me in anyway. The kiss was deep and warm and sweet. A shock to my system. My body melted against him immediately as everything else blurred. The chaos, the smell, the shouting. All gone. When we separated, my head spun for a different reason entirely. I wanted him. But Roman turned back to business immediately, the softness vanishing like it had never existed. “Zane is a tattoo artist, isn’t he?” he asked Chloe.She sniffled, clutching her abdomen while a man wrapped her hand tightly. “Y-yes.” “Where’s his shop?” Her lips trembled and she hesitated. Roman’s jaw ticked and he threatened, “don't anger me, Chloe.” Chloe broke. “I—I’ll give you the address.” Of course she would. After today? No one would dare tell Roman no.