Page 29 of Stiletto's Savior

“Keep it down!” someone shouts.

“Get the fuck out of here!” another voice roars.

No matter how hard I try, I can’t breathe.

My chest tightens.

The walls feel like they’re closing in.

Another gunshot rings out and nausea pulls in my gut.

“God, help me.” The words tumble from my lips.

I thrash against my chains, my wrists burning like nothing else I’ve ever experienced.

I’m pretty damn certain at this point they’re infected. The juices that ooze from them make me think they are.

They pulse in time with my heartbeat, throbbing with such intensity that I have to grit my teeth against the wave of pain.

“Fuck,” I wince, a choked sob escaping my lips.

My mind races, circling back to one thought.

I close my eyes, trying to transport myself away from this hellish situation.

More gunshots echo around me, louder than before.

Shouts drown out any coherent thoughts, painting a vivid picture of the chaos unfolding above.

I press my ears against the cold concrete wall, desperate to pick up any familiar voices amid the sea of hostility upstairs.

God, I want this to be the club.

If it isn’t, who knows what the hell will happen to me.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Miles

I sprint through the crumbling hallway, my heart pounding like a jackhammer.

Dust hangs in the stale air, catching beams of light that slip through boarded windows.

A figure lunges at me, wild eyes and a fist cocked back. No time to think.

“Get the hell away!” I shout.

I pivot on my heel, grabbing his wrist.

My training kicks in.

I twist hard, forcing him down.

He stumbles forward, caught off guard.

“Not today, buddy.”

With one swift motion, I bring my knee up into his gut.

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