Chapter 207 Just Tell Him Savannah For three whole seconds, the world forgets how to breathe. Just like no one breathes in here. Not Chloe. Not Paula. Not me. Not even Roman. Paula sits tied to the chair, sweat dripping down her face, chin still lifted in that arrogant way—even with a gun leveled between her eyes. Chloe is trembling beside her, her legs bound, her face ghost-white from the scary reality. Roman sits in front of them, jaw clenched so tight it looks like a punishment. And me? I’m on the edge of my seat, chest tight, every muscle in my body strung like wire because Roman isn’t bluffing. He isn’t performing. He isn’t just merely threatening. He is going to pull the trigger. And Paula knows it. The gun pointed at her forehead turns the entire room into a silent, tense, suffocating vacuum. The only thing I can hear is my own heartbeat hammering against my ribs like it wants out. Roman doesn’t blink. Doesn’t shift. Doesn’t give any indication that this is some dramatic bluff. I know him well enough by now. Especially after earlier. Roman doesn’t bluff. He'll put a bullet through her head if she doesn't give him the answer he wants. Paula licks her lips, her bravado faltering just slightly. “You’re insane,” she whispers. “No,” Roman replies, almost gently. “I’m determined.” He pulls the trigger. Click. Chloe screams and I jerk so hard my knees knock together. Paula’s entire body trembles, but she doesn’t make a sound. Roman tilts his head. “One empty chamber down. Five more chances to rethink that sealed mouth.” “Roman—stop,” I blurt before I can think, reaching forward as if that would somehow lower the gun. “This is—” He cuts me a look so cold it freezes the words in my throat. “Don’t,” he says quietly. “Not right now. Sit down, Savannah.” My heart sinks. And I slowly obey. This is the side of him I always knew existed, buried somewhere behind the sarcasm and warmth and possessiveness. The side shaped by his evil father. The side polished by years of hidden violence and revenge. But seeing it this close… Seeing it unfiltered… It scares me in a way I can’t hide. But it also excites me in a shameful way. Paula forces a laugh, but it comes out brittle. “You think this scares me? You think I haven’t seen worse? Do you know what I've been through?” Roman spins the chamber lazily with his thumb. “We’ll find out.” He presses the barrel back to her forehead. “Wait—wait!” Chloe sobs, her voice cracking violently. “Please don’t do this. She’s stupid, Roman. She’s stupid and stubborn and reckless but she’s not—she’s not evil. Please just stop—” Roman doesn’t even glance at her. So she keeps going. Chloe sobs, shaking violently. “Please stop this! Please! She’ll talk, she’ll talk—” “No,” Paula spits, turning her head sharply toward Chloe. “Shut up!” Her voice trembles. But the defiance is still there, buried under the terror. Chloe shrinks back. Roman’s smile grows a degree colder. “Who do you work for, Paula?”Paula’s jaw works, clenching so hard a vein pops at her temple. She holds Roman’s stare with a stubbornness that’s almost admirable. “I’m not scared of you. You can't make me talk.” Roman smiles. “Good.” He pulls the trigger again. Click. Paula flinches this time. Her breath stutters, her eyes closing just a fraction longer than a blink. Roman nods slowly. “Two.” He sets the gun down on his thigh, tapping the barrel against his knee while he studies her. “Every bullet-less click increases your odds of dying. You know that, right? This isn’t just a threat. It’s pure math.” “Go to hell,” Paula snaps. Roman shrugs. “Probably.” He lifts the gun again. “But you know what? Even if you die before telling me what you know, I'll find out another way. And you know what else I'll do? I'll ruin your already-ruined reputation that you will never find peace. Even in the afterlife. I'll make sure you never have a funeral. Nor even a body.” Paula’s eyes widen just barely—and that is the first real crack in her armor.He notices. Of course he notices. “I'll have my men cut you up into tiny, miserable pieces and then I'll send them to your boss. And the rest? I'll let the fishes have a feast.” She gasped. It was almost inaudible but I heard it. “Round three,” he murmurs. “You should talk. What's more pathetic than dying, is dying for a man who wouldn’t cross the street to spit on your grave.” Paula’s breath shakes. Her tears spill over. The men behind Paula tighten their grip on her shoulders. Chloe squeezes her eyes shut, whispering a frantic prayer. Roman places the cold metal back to her temple. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. My lungs are burning with the pressure of holding in a scream. “You don’t have to die today, Paula,” Roman says softly. “Just tell me who you work for.” Paula’s throat bobs. Her lips tremble. For a moment, I think she’s actually breaking. Then her chin lifts defiantly. “Do it,” she spits. “Go on. Kill me.” Roman stares at her… then slowly inhales. And pulls the trigger.Click. Paula chokes on a breath so sharp it sounds like a sob. Her face has gone pale, and real fear—undeniable, uncontrollable—shines through. Roman leans forward. “That was four.” He says, dropping his voice to something almost tender, almost intimate. “Two bullets left. Your odds are getting worse by the second.” “Roman,” I whisper again. “Please…” He doesn’t look at me. But his jaw tics. Paula squeezes her eyes shut, gasping softly, and I think she finally understands what’s at stake. The woman who’s been unbreakable all day now looks seconds away from shattering. Again. “Just tell him,” Chloe whimpers. “Please, Paula, just tell him. Who cares if he finds out?! Save yourself first!” Paula shakes her head violently. Tears spring in her eyes—not from bullets but from panic clawing its way up her throat. “I—I can’t.” She cries out suddenly, tears spilling. “I can’t tell you. You don’t understand what they'll do to me.” Roman taps the barrel gently against his head. “So, you’re assuming you’ll survive me.” Paula’s eyes stretch wide. Roman breathes out. Then pulls the trigger. Click. Paula nearly collapses. Her head falls forward, her whole body shaking uncontrollably now. “That was five,” Roman says, dropping his voice to something almost tender, almost intimate. “Looks like today is the day you die.” “Roman, please,” Chloe sobs. “She’ll die. Please stop—” “Not until she talks.” Paula sucks in a sharp, broken inhale. Then she changes the story. “I swear—I swear—I don’t know his real name. I never knew—” “Lie,” Roman says, completely sure. “Try again.” Paula shakes her head, crying harder. “I’m not lying! I don’t—” Roman stands. The chair screeches as he kicks it back and walks behind Paula. His men stiffen. Chloe chokes on another scream. I grip the edge of the seat so hard my nails dig into the wood painfully.Roman places the cold metal against the back of Paula’s skull. The room freezes around that one motion. Then very softly, he says: “Round six. Your time's up. Enough games.” Chloe sobs harder. “Paula, please!” Paula inhales shakily. Then she breaks. “I KNOW HIM!” she screams. “I KNOW HIM, I KNOW HIM, PLEASE STOP—PLEASE—DON’T—” Roman tilts the gun downward slowly. Paula collapses into panicked sobbing. Chloe breaks into hysterical relief. Even the men inhale like they’d been holding their breath for minutes. The entire room practically deflates. But Roman isn’t finished. Not yet. He tucks the gun into his waistband and crouches in front of her. “Tell me his name.” he demands calmly. “Talk.” Paula hyperventilates, shaking violently as the truth claws its way out of her throat. “You don’t understand…” she whispers. “If I say his name, I’m dead. We’re all dead. He has friends. They'll come for all of us.” Roman says nothing.Paula’s tears fall faster. “He’s not a supplier. He’s not a middleman. He’s not some street-level crime boss—he’s—he’s—” She chokes on her own words. Roman loses his cool and screams so loud I shake from fear. “Give me his fucking name!” Paula squeezes her eyes shut, terror ripping through her. And then in a whisper, she says it. “Jace Hart.” The world literally stops.