From Best Friend To Fiancé (Savannah and Roman) novel Chapter 356

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.

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9:49 Thu, Dec 25

Chapter 356

“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.

“1–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

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