Page 81 of Wade’s Wrath

“You agreed to marry me,” Frank insisted.

“My father agreed that I’d marry you,” she said.

Richard stepped forward. “Harlow, that's enough.”

“No,” she hissed. “I get to decide when it’s enough, and I’m just getting started.”

His face reddened. “You will stop this childish behavior right now.”

“I'm not a child,” she spat.

“Then stop acting like one,” he countered.

Harlow stared at him. “You trafficked women through Mom's foundation.” Richard's expression went blank, and that hurt worse than denial. “You used shelters to quietly move them.”

“Harlow—” her father warned.

“Women came there because they were running from men like Frank.”

Frank sneered. “You don't understand the business.”

Harlow looked at him. “Kidnapping and selling off women isn’t a business.”

“Fucker,” Princess muttered.

Harlow’s stomach twisted. “You really don't think of those women as people, do you?” she asked.

Frank shrugged. “Everybody has a price,” he said. Her fear disappeared—not all of it, but enough to make her braver.

“You're disgusting,” she insisted.

“And you're naïve,” Frank said. He stepped closer, and Harlow raised the weapon higher.

“Stop,” Harlow warned.

“You aren't going to shoot me,” he said.

“Don't test her,” Princess warned. Frank smiled. It was the same smile he'd used whenever Harlow objected to something. He was a condescending prick.

“You couldn't pull the trigger if your life depended on it.” He moved fast, and Harlow didn't have time to think.

She backed away. “Stop!” she shouted, but Frank kept coming. Martin shouted his name, and Princess raised her weapon. Frank grabbed Harlow and his hand closed around her wrist. It was the same wrist he'd bruised before the wedding, and pain shot up her arm.

Harlow screamed. “Let go!” He twisted, and the gun nearly slipped from her hand.

Princess lunged toward them, but Martin grabbed her from behind. Chaos exploded around them. Princess cursed as Harlow fought. Frank shoved her against the bar.

“You stupid bitch,” he spat. Something inside her went completely still. She wasn’t afraid anymore. Harlow slammed her knee upward, and Frank grunted. His grip loosened, and she tore herself free. He came at her again, and his hand moved toward his jacket. She saw the black grip of a gun.

“Harlow!” Princess screamed. Frank pulled the gun from his jacket, and Harlow fired her gun, aiming at center mass, just as her father had taught her. The sound was deafening. Frank stopped, and for one strange second, nobody moved.

Frank looked down, and shock crossed his face. His gun slipped from his hand, and he collapsed onto the floor. Harlow stood frozen. Her ears rang, and her arms were locked straight in front of her. The gun felt impossibly heavy. Frank lay on the floor, not moving, as blood spread across his shirt.

“Oh, my God.” Her voice sounded far away.

“Harlow,” Princess shouted. “Harlow, look at me.” She couldn't. She'd shot him. She'd shot Frank.

Richard moved toward him. “Frank!”