Page 32 of Stiletto's Savior

I swing the light toward the far wall.

There she is. Curled up, small, trembling.

“Thank fucking God.”

Relief crashes over me like a wave.

I rush forward, every part of me screaming for her safety.

She reels back, eyes wide, filled with fear.

She doesn’t realize it’s me.

Panic grips my chest.

“Song,” I whisper, stepping closer. “It’s okay. It’s me. It’s Miles.”

She’s beaten. Bruised. Bloodied. Naked. My stomach churns.

“God, no.”

“No, I…” Her voice trembles, laced with terror.

“It’s me. I promise you, it’s me.” I try to keep my voice steady, but every word is a struggle.

“No, I must be dreaming,” she gasps, instinctively curling into herself.

“Shh, please.” I reach out, careful not to startle her more. “I’m here. You’re safe now, Song. We’ve got you.”

Her hazel-green eyes dart around, searching for something—anything—to grasp onto.

She’s shaking like a small dog in a thunderstorm, and it feels like my heart is breaking all over again.

I say softly, “Look at me.”

Her eyes widen. Recognition flickers, and then she starts to cry.

I kneel in front of her, my heart pounding like a drum against my ribs. “It’s okay. Everything is going to be okay.”

I yank off my jacket, the fabric heavy with urgency.

I drape it over her shoulders, covering her bare skin, shielding her from the world.

“Thank you,” she gasps between sobs, tears streaming down her dirt-streaked face.

“Don’t thank me yet.” I try to keep my voice steady, but it cracks. “Just hold on.”

“Please... I thought I was going to die in here,” Her voice breaks, fear spilling out with every word.

“Not on my watch.” I grip her hands, feeling how cold and frail they are, like a bird caught in a storm.

“How… how did you find me?”

“Doesn’t matter. What matters is I’m here now.” I scan the room, ready to defend her if I have to.

“Promise?”

“Yeah, I promise. You’re safe.”

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