The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins (Mia and Kyle) novel Chapter 203

Kyle's POV

Mia.

She was alive.

The maintenance door opened into a utility closet adjacent to the main room. Through a narrow ventilation grille, I could see part of the penthouse interior—plush furnishings, expensive artwork. A man's voice continued speaking, the tone cultured and cold.

"...the Branson bloodline ends today."

I'd heard enough.

The door burst open under my shoulder, splinters flying as the reinforced wood gave way. The scene unfolded before me with crystal clarity—Mia, bound and terrified. Charles Porter, gun raised. Nate Pierce, lunging forward too late.

My first shot took Porter in the shoulder, spinning him away from Mia. The second caught him in the upper chest, not immediately fatal but debilitating.

Our eyes locked across the room—his filled with shock and hatred, mine with the cold certainty of a man protecting what was his.

"Kyle," Mia gasped, her voice breaking through the ringing in my ears.

Porter recovered with surprising speed, raising his weapon toward me despite his injuries. We now stood in perfect deadlock, guns aimed at each other's hearts.

"Branson," he snarled, blood staining his immaculate shirt. "How fitting that you should be here to witness this."

"Drop the gun, Porter," I commanded, my voice impossibly calm despite the rage coursing through me. "It's over."

His laugh was wet with blood. "Over? This has barely begun. Do you know how long I've waited for this moment? To see you experience the same loss I did?"

"I know exactly who you are," I replied. "I know about Diana. About Carol. About everything."

Porter's eyes widened fractionally. "Then you understand why this must happen. An eye for an eye."

"Your quarrel was with my father," I said, not lowering my weapon. "He's already paid his price."

"Not enough," Porter spat. "Your family destroyed everything I loved. Now you'll watch as I do the same to you."

He shifted his aim toward Mia, and something in me snapped.

"Don't," I warned, taking a step forward.

"Stop right there," Porter commanded. "Or she dies now."

I froze, calculating distances, angles, probabilities. He was wounded but still dangerous. The distance between us was too great for me to reach him before he could pull the trigger.

"Nate," Porter called, not taking his eyes off me. "Secure Branson."

Pierce hesitated, his expression conflicted.

"Now, Nate!" Porter demanded. "Remember why we're here. Remember Carol."

"Carol wouldn't want this," Pierce responded quietly. "She wouldn't want more innocent deaths."

Porter's face contorted with rage. "Then you're as weak as she was. Guards!"

The door behind me burst open as Porter's security detail flooded in, weapons raised. I was forced to divide my attention, my chances of saving Mia diminishing with each passing second.

"Drop your weapon, Branson," Porter ordered, victory lacing his words. "Or my men will cut you down where you stand."

I looked at Mia, our eyes meeting across the chaos. In that moment, a wordless understanding passed between us. I saw fear in her eyes, yes—but also determination. Trust.

I nodded, suddenly finding it difficult to remain standing. I sank to my knees, Mia immediately beside me, her newly freed hands pressing against my wound.

"Stay with me," she commanded, her voice surprisingly steady despite the tears streaming down her face. "Don't you dare die on me, Kyle Branson."

I found myself smiling despite the pain now radiating through my chest. "I wouldn't." I replied weakly.

The room was growing dimmer, sounds becoming muffled. I forced myself to focus on Mia's face—the freckles across her nose that became more pronounced when she was upset, the slight unevenness of her left eyebrow, the depth of her eyes that had captivated me from the beginning, though I'd been too blind to recognize it.

"Kyle, look at me," she demanded, her hands warm against my skin. "The medics are coming. Just hold on."

I reached up, my bloodied fingers leaving smears on her cheek as I touched her face. "I'm sorry, Mia" I whispered.

"Stop it," she said fiercely. "You don't get to apologize right now. You save that for when you're better, understand?"

The medical team burst in, immediately assessing my condition and preparing me for transport. As they worked, I kept my eyes fixed on Mia, drawing strength from her presence.

"Sir, we need to move you now," one of the medics said. "Helicopter's waiting on the roof."

I nodded, wincing as they transferred me to a stretcher. "Mia comes too," I insisted.

"She needs medical attention as well," Matthew interjected. "Precautionary."

The lead medic nodded. "We'll transport both."

As they prepared to move us, I said to Mia for the last time, "I won't bother you," I promised her. "After this. You'll have your freedom. Whatever you want."

The last thing I heard before darkness claimed me was her voice, fierce and determined: "Stay with me, Kyle. Please stay with me."

And I tried. God, how I tried.