Chapter Seven
Millie
The hallway outside the interview rooms smells like old coffee and antiseptic. It clings to the back of my throat, making every breath feel sharp. I sit on the hard plastic chair, my fingers locked together so tightly my knuckles ache.
The door at the end of the corridor shuts with a heavy thud.
My chest tightens painfully at the thought of Wilder in there.
He has told me a lot of things about his past. Things that should have sent me running in the opposite direction.
He trusted me with his past, every broken, ugly piece.
I know what prison did to him. I know what cages do to a man like him.
And now he’s here again. Because of me.
My stomach twists.
I picture him inside that room. The tight space. The questions. The suspicion. The walls closing in. I imagine the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw has likely locked, the storm building behind his eyes. He hates not being in control. He hates being watched.
He hates being trapped.
I press my lips together, forcing the panic down. This will be resolved. It has to be. This is a misunderstanding. A stupid, ridiculous misunderstanding. All that matters is getting us out of here. I hear footsteps approach and look up just as an officer stops in front of me.
“Miss Winters?”
I stand so fast my head spins. “Yes.”
“This way.”
I follow him down the corridor, my pulse hammering wildly in my chest. The closer we get, the louder my heart pounds. My palms are damp, my breathing shallow.
We stop outside a door. The officer lifts his hand to knock, then a voice cuts through the wood.
“You expect us to believe this just happened?”
“I love her!” Wilder’s voice. Raw, powerful, and vulnerable all at once.
My breath catches, The words hit me like a physical blow, stealing the air from my lungs. Heat floods my chest, spreading outward until my skin is flaming red.
“I’d die before I let anything happen to her,” he adds.
My vision blurs, and for a second, I forget where I am. The station. The officers. The cold walls. Everything fades beneath the rush of emotion roaring in my ears.
Surely, he’s speaking about me. He loves me.
The truth blooms inside me, bright and overwhelming. It pushes past the fear, the confusion, and the chaos.
Because I love him too.
I’ve known for a while. I just never said it. The words have sat heavy on my tongue, trapped there by doubt. By the fear that it was too soon. That I was too much. That he would look at me with that careful distance and gently push me away.
But he feels it too.
He said it.
The door is opened, and time snaps back into place. Our eyes immediately lock. Surprise flashes in his mesmerizing gray eyes. Then something softer. Vulnerable. Almost boyish in a way that makes my heart ache.
He knows I heard.
So many things pass between us in that moment. Questions. Fear. Hope. Relief.
I want to run to him. I want to touch him. I want to tell him that I love him too.
But one of the detectives steps in front of him, disrupting the moment. The detectives lead him out. He resists for half a second, his gaze never leaving mine. His jaw tightens, like he’s fighting the urge to break free.
Then he lets them move him.
He glances back once as the door closes between us.
The officer gestures. “Miss Winters.”
I step into the room on unsteady legs.
The chair is still warm from Wilder. The air still charged with his anger. I sit, gripping the edge of the table to ground myself.
One of the detectives studies me. “We just need to ask you a few questions.”
I nod. I don’t trust my voice yet.
They begin, throwing questions at me, each more ridiculous than the last. My irritation grows with every passing second. The picture they’re painting is so far from the truth it feels absurd. Wilder has never trapped me. Never forced me. If anything, he gave me more freedom than anyone ever has.
I answer carefully and clearly, keeping my tone firm.
“Wilder has never and will never hurt me. He helped me when I had nowhere to go”
The detective leans back. “Miss Winters, your mother reported you missing.”
The words slam into me.
“My…mother?”
“Yes. She claims you were taken and are being held captive.”
Heat floods my body, anger burning away the last traces of fear.
Of course she did.
Of course.
My hands curl into fists. “That’s ridiculous.”
“She seemed very concerned.”
Concerned. The word tastes bitter.
I let out a sharp breath. “She refused to pay rent, got us evicted and literally told me to go to hell.”
The two detectives exchange a look.
“How did she know where I was?” I demand.
“She didn’t provide details. Only that she had reason to believe you were in danger.”
A hollow laugh escapes me. “Danger. Right.”
The room feels smaller now, the walls pressing in. All of this... The interrogation. Wilder reliving his worst nightmare.
It’s because of her. My anger sharpens into something cold and focused.
“I want this cleared up immediately,” I say. “Wilder has done nothing wrong.”
“We understand,” the detective replies. “Your statement helps.”
He pauses. “Your mother is here at the station.”
My spine straightens, but I say nothing.
“She asked to see you. Would you be willing to speak with her?”
Every instinct in me screams no, but if this ends it…if it frees Wilder…
“Yes,” I say. My voice is steady despite the storm raging inside me. “I’ll speak with her.”
The detective nods and stands. As he opens the door, I take a deep breath, my expression hardening.
This ends today.
My mother steps into the room, and for a second, I don’t recognize her. I thought she looked bad from alcohol abuse before. Now, she looks bad, bad.
Her cheeks are hollow, her skin dull and stretched too tight over sharp bones. Dark circles bruise the skin beneath her eyes. Her hands tremble at her sides. Her clothes hang off her like they belong to someone else.
Shock hits me so hard I forget to breathe. “Mom?”
Her gaze snaps to mine. It’s glassy, unfocused, but when she sees me, something frantic flickers to life.
“Millie?”
The word is raw, almost desperate.
And just like that, I know.
The weight loss. The shaking. The restless way her eyes move. The thin sheen of sweat on her skin.
Withdrawal.
My stomach drops.
“What the hell were you thinking?” The words come out sharper than I intend. “You reported me missing? You told the police I was kidnapped?”
She flinches like I slapped her.
“I was trying to find you,” she says quickly. “I couldn’t. I went to the apartment, and you weren’t there. Your phone—you changed your number. I didn’t know where else to look.”
A bitter laugh escapes me. “We were evicted, remember? You moved in with Matheo. You told me I was an adult now—that I could figure it out on my own.”
Her brow furrows. Confusion flickers, like she’s grasping for something just out of reach. “Did I?”
Of course she doesn’t remember. The part she lost is the part where she threw me away—because I was never worth holding on to in the first place.
“Everything’s been…foggy,” she rushes on. “I didn’t know what to do. I thought if I reported you missing, they’d help me find you.”
The detectives remain silent, watching.
“Why?” I ask. My voice is flat. “Why now?”
Her lips press together. Her eyes dart to the officers, then back to me. “Matheo kicked me out,” she mutters. That name twists something ugly in my chest. “He broke up with me. Said he was done. I don’t have anywhere to go. And he cut me off.”
The last words are barely audible.
There it is.
None of this is about concern or a mother’s love for her child. She’s not even remorseful, just desperate.
“I needed help,” she says, stepping closer. “I thought…I thought you could give me some money. Maybe let me stay with you for a while. Just until I get back on my feet.”
The room goes very still.
“No.” The word leaves my mouth before I even think.
She blinks. “What?”
“I said no.”
Her face hardens. “Millie, don’t be ridiculous. I’m your mother.”
“I know exactly who you are.” The anger that has been simmering inside me finally breaks free. Years of it. Every broken promise. Every lie. Every night I went to bed hungry while she chased her next high. “I’m not giving you money,” I continue. “And you are not staying with me.”
Her expression twists. “You have to. I’m your mother.”
“I’m an adult,” I say, my voice rising. “I can live where I want. With who I want. And I don’t owe you anything.”
The words echo in the room. Her eyes flash with fury.
“After everything I’ve done for you?”
A disbelieving sound tears out of me. “Everything you’ve done? You mean neglect me? Use me? Choose alcohol over me every single time?”
Her chest heaves. The officers shift subtly, tension thickening the air.
“You abandoned me,” I say, quieter now but far more deadly. “You don’t get to show up now and demand anything.”
Something snaps. Her face contorts with rage. “You ungrateful little piece of—”
She lunges.
It happens so fast I barely have time to react. Her hands slam into my shoulders, and then they’re around my throat. Pain explodes as her fingers tighten. I choke, grabbing at her wrists. The chair crashes backward. The room erupts in shouting.
“Let go!”
Strong hands yank her off me. I collapse forward, gasping, my lungs burning. My vision swims as I drag in air.
Mom screams, thrashing as the officers restrain her.
“She owes me! She’s my daughter! She can’t do this!”
The door slams as they haul her out, a loud silence crashing down around me.
I cough, rubbing my neck, trying to steady my breathing. My whole body shakes.
Another officer hurries in. “Miss Winters, are you okay?”
“I want Wilder,” I rasp.
He nods immediately. “Of course.”
Seconds feel like hours. Then the door opens and Wilder steps inside. The moment he sees me, something dark and violent ignites in his eyes. His gaze drops to my throat, and his entire body goes rigid.
“Millie.”
I don’t make it to him.
He crosses the room in two strides and pulls me into his arms. The impact knocks the breath from my lungs, but I cling to him just as tightly.