Page 125 of Made for Wilde
“You know what? I think I’m just going to go.” My pulse races as I take another step toward the exit. “I’ll come back for the trophy some other time.”
Adrian’s voice drops. “I don’t think so.”
That’s when I see it. The glint of metal in his right hand. My brain takes a second to process what I’m looking at.
A gun.
Adrian has a gun.
My mouth goes dry and my legs start to wobble.
Fuck, I’m such an idiot.
“Adrian, w-what are you doing?” I whisper.
“What I should have done weeks ago.” He raises the weapon slightly, not quite pointing it at me but making sure I can see it clearly. “What I would have done if you hadn’t been so stubborn about him.”
My back bumps against one of the beauty stations.
“Adrian, you’re scaring me. This isn’t you.”
“This is exactly me, Charlotte.” Adrian snaps. His eyes are fever bright with something that makes my stomach turn. “This is who I’ve always been. You just weren’t paying attention.”
Then he gestures with the gun toward the storage closet at the back of the lab.
“Move.”
I swallow hard. “No. I’m not going anywhere with you.”
Adrian’s expression darkens.
“Move, now. Or I’ll drag you.”
The quiet certainty in his voice tells me he means it.
I think about the baby growing inside me, about the precious life I need to protect. Fighting him here, in the open, with a gun in his hand isn’t smart.
Stay calm, I tell myself. Think. Find a way out.
I walk toward the storage closet on unsteady legs.
The small room is barely ten feet square and lined with metal shelves holding beauty supplies and old equipment. But what stops me cold is what sits in the center of the cramped space.
A single plastic chair.
My blood turns to ice.
The chair wasn’t just conveniently there. Someone put it there recently. Along with a pack of zip ties that I can see peeking out from behind a container of bleach and a roll of duct tape.
“Get in,” Adrian barks.
I step into the closet and my legs barely support me. The space feels impossibly small with both of us in it. Adrian reaches behind one of the shelves and pulls out the zip ties and tape.
“Sit down.”
“Adrian, please.” I try one more time to reach whatever part of him used to seem normal. “You don’t have to do this. We can talk. Just put the gun away and we can?—”
“I said sit down, Charlotte!” Adrian roars.
