Chapter 9 Russian Roulette
“Mia!” James’s scream tore out of him, raw and violent. He jerked against the ropes so hard his wrists started bleeding. “What are you doing? You should’ve just left! Leave me here—just go!”
She lifted her head, a thin line of blood trailing from her lip. The men held her arms down, their grips punishing.
James’s voice cracked as he roared again. “Why did you do that?! You need to get out. I won’t blame you—just leave! This has nothing to do with you. They came for me, not you. Just go, damn it—GO!”
Then his eyes locked onto the man who hit her.
James’s entire body changed.
He froze. Then something dark and lethal blazed across his face.
“How dare you touch her,” he growled, voice shaking with rage. “You want me? Come for me. Touch her again—”
He leaned forward so hard the ropes dug into his skin.
“and I’ll kill every one of you!”
The kidnapper, now wiping blood from his own head where she hit him, turned toward Mia slowly.
His smile was gone. His amusement was gone.
“You were given a chance,” he said, voice dropping into a deadly calm. “And you wasted it.”
He lifted the gun from the floor and began spinning the cylinder lazily, the metal clicking echoing in the room.
“Alright,” he said. “Let’s play something new.”
Mia’s breathing steadied. Fear twisted inside her stomach, but her face remained composed. She lifted her chin.
“What game?”
The kidnapper’s grin returned—colder this time.
“Russian roulette. One bullet. We take turns pressing the gun to our own heads and pulling the trigger.”
James froze.
Mia’s fingers trembled—just slightly. The men holding her tightened their grips.
“If you’re unlucky,” the kidnapper continued, “you die. If I’m unlucky… I die.”
Mia swallowed, hard. “And if I win… you let us go?”
“Of course,” he said smoothly. “I’m a man of my word.”
The man who had slapped her leaned down with a wicked grin. “Just telling you… our Boss has never lost this game.”
The leader twirled the gun around his finger, then pointed it at her.
“That’s the deal. If you win, you walk out with him—” his eyes flicked to James, “—alive.”
He leaned in closer, voice dropping to a chilling whisper.
“But if you lose… you die beside your husband.”
Another man leaned against the wall, arms crossed, lips stretching into a cruel grin. “Although,” he drawled, “I’ve heard people call you a married widow.”
Mia didn’t move.
He jerked his chin toward James with mocking pity. “They say your husband doesn’t give a damn about you. So tell me—” his voice dipped lower, nastier, “—is it really worth dying for someone like that?”
Mia stood completely still, no reaction on her face. “All you have to do is keep your word,” she said calmly. “Don’t back out.”
James shook his head violently, voice rising with panic. “Mia, are you out of your mind?! Don’t even think about it. Don’t play with your life like this!”
Mia ignored him completely. She stepped forward and extended her hand toward the man. “Give me the gun.”
The kidnapper snorted. “I’ll start. To give you a head start.”
Mia narrowed her eyes. “How do I know you don’t already know where the bullet is? You could cheat.”
The leader paused… then smiled, amused by her suspicion.
With excruciating slowness, he clicked open the cylinder.
One by one, he removed every bullet—letting each metal piece clatter loudly onto the table.
Clack.
Clack.
Clack.
The final bullet remained in his palm. He held it up between two fingers, smirking. Then he slid it into the cylinder.
He spun the chamber—hard. It whirred until the bullet was lost in a blur. He snapped it shut with a single, sharp click.
Every man in the room watched him.
James held his breath.
Then, without hesitation, the kidnapper pressed the gun to his own temple.
Mia’s eyes locked on him.
…click.
Empty.
A slow, confident smile curled on the kidnapper’s lips.
“Your turn.”
He held the gun out to her.
Mia reached for it.
Her fingers closed around the cold metal—her hands steady, but her pulse pounding so violently she felt it in her throat. She lifted the gun, slowly raising the barrel toward her own forehead.
Her breath hitched.
Behind her, James lost control.
“MIA—STOP!” His voice cracked, raw and shaking. He pulled against the ropes until the veins in his arms bulged, until the skin of his wrists tore. “You’re going to die! realise that?! You’re going to die if you do this! Mia—don’t—PLEASE don’t—!”
She didn’t look at him. Her eyes stayed on the kidnapper.
Then Mia inhaled, slow and deep.
And pulled the trigger—
The silence that followed was so sharp it almost rang in the air.
Even the kidnappers stared at Mia—wide-eyed, stunned, looking at her like she was something unreal.
“Mia, leave!” James barked, voice cracking with panic. “Get out of here! NOW!”
His entire face was twisted—jaw clenched, eyes wild, veins standing out like cords along his neck. He had never looked like this in his life. Not even close. Rage, terror, disbelief—they all crashed through him at once.
“You’re going to die for real! This is not a damn game!” he shouted, voice shaking so hard it barely held together.
Inside him, everything spun out of control. ‘Why is she doing this? Why the hell is she risking herself for me? Wasn’t it money she always cared about? Wasn’t that why she married me? For a title? For the Sinclair name? Then why—why would she be willing to die for me?’
But Mia didn’t even glance at him.
Her fingers tightened around the gun until her knuckles turned white.
“Let’s finish this quickly,” she said, breath uneven but her voice steady. “I don’t have all day.”
The leader’s eyes widened a fraction.
Then Mia raised the gun higher and murmured, “There are four bullets left… right?”
Before anyone could speak, before they could blink—Mia pulled the trigger.
Once.
Click.
Twice.
Click.
A third time.
Click.
The three empty clicks echoed like explosions in the still room.
It happened so fast the men didn’t even have time to reach for their weapons. Time seemed to stop. James felt his heart slam so violently into his ribs it hurt. He couldn’t breathe.
The kidnapper’s face contorted in shock. “You… you used a trick, didn’t you?” he accused, voice tight.
Mia stared back at him with cold calm. “You spun the cylinder yourself,” she reminded him. “How could I cheat?”
She angled the gun toward him, chin lifting. “There’s only one bullet left. It’s your turn.”
Something flickered in the man’s eyes—anger, disbelief, maybe even respect. With a curse under his breath, he snatched the gun from her hand.
He raised it toward his temple.
Pause.
At the last second—he jerked the gun upward.
BANG.
The gunshot roared through the club room, rattling the metal door, shaking dust from the ceiling.
Mia didn’t flinch.
She simply lowered her hands and whispered, almost softly, “We’re done.”
The leader stared at her for several long seconds, chest rising and falling hard. Then he gave a single stiff nod.
“We’re done,” he echoed quietly. “I’ll let you go… this time.”
He jerked his hand toward the exit. His men hesitated, still shaken, but followed him out without another word.
The moment the last footsteps faded, Mia’s breath broke out in a shaky exhale. Only then did she realize she’d been holding it the entire time. Her hands trembled—just a fraction.
She rushed toward James, fingers fumbling as she tried to untie the ropes digging into his wrists.
James ripped the last rope off himself and shot to his feet, rounding on her with eyes so wide they were almost glowing.
He grabbed her shoulders, shaking, hands trembling with leftover terror.
“What the hell were you thinking?!” he roared, voice raw. “Are you out of your mind?! You could’ve died, Mia! You could’ve actually died!”
But as the anger poured out of him, Mia swayed.
Her eyes fluttered.
Her vision dimmed at the edges.
“Mia?” James breathed, panic hitting him so fast it stole his breath.
She didn’t answer—her body went limp.
And before she hit the floor, James caught her in his arms, clutching her tightly against his chest.
***
When Mia opened her eyes, the blinding white hospital ceiling stabbed at her vision. For a second she couldn’t breathe—her heart slammed against her ribs.
She shot upright, frantic. Her hand flew to the side table, snatching her phone.
Nine PM.
Only three hours had passed since she had left the mall.
Her stomach tightened. She ripped the blanket off and swung her legs over the bed, ignoring the way her head throbbed.
She had barely taken one step when the door slammed open.
James stormed in.
His chest was rising and falling too fast, his eyes wild the moment they locked onto her.
“Mia—what the hell are you doing?” he barked.
Before she could react, his hands were on her shoulders, pushing her back down on the bed. His fingers trembled with barely controlled panic.
“Sit. Down.”
She jerked out of his grip. “Move.”
“No,” he snapped. His palms landed on either side of her, trapping her in place. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“I need to leave,” she hissed, trying to slide past him. She gripped her phone like it was her lifeline. “Let go of me, James.”
He grabbed her arms again—tighter this time—his jaw clenched so hard the muscle twitched. “What is wrong with you?” he demanded, voice cracking. “You wake up after nearly dying and your first instinct is to run?”
“I’m not running.” She shoved his hand off. “We’re divorced. My life stopped belonging to you a long time ago.”
Something snapped in him.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” James grabbed her face, forcing her to meet his eyes. “You were ready to die for me! Do you understand what could have happened? Those weren’t idiots bluffing—Mia, that was real danger!”
Mia grabbed his wrist and forcefully removed it from her face. Her eyes were cold when she looked at him.
“I didn’t do it for you.”
James went completely still. His chest rose and fell, fast at first, then slower—his anger faltering into confusion.