Page 35 of Stiletto's Savior

The door shuts with a solid thud, sealing us in a cocoon of safety.

I lean against him, feeling the warmth radiate from his body.

I look up into his eyes, searching for assurance.

“You’re safe now,” he murmurs, as if he knows all the fears tumbling in my mind.

Just hearing those words steady me.

For the first time in what feels like forever, I let myself believe it.

Before long Bull, along with the rest of the club members who came with Miles are outside of the house.

“Let’s move,” Zane, the MC Prez orders, urgency creeping into his voice.

Bull rushes in the driver’s seat and Chaz sits beside him.

They don’t waste any time peeling out of the driveway, leaving all of this madness behind us.

Bull looks at me in the rear-view mirror, determination etched across his face. “Let’s get you back to the clubhouse and sorted,”

I murmur a reply out of necessity. “Okay,”

Miles wraps an arm around my side, holding me close against his body. “All you have to do right now is relax,”

Outside I know the club is going to face repercussions, but that’s another worry for another day.

Inside this SUV, I take a breath. I’m safe.

I don’t know how much time passes, but I shut my eyes and rest for the first time in what feels like weeks.

After a while, I’m jostled awake from hitting a pothole.

Chaz turns to me, brows furrowing slightly. “You doing okay back there?”

“Yeah, just peachy,” I say, trying to infuse some sarcasm into my words. “Nothing like a little excitement to spice up my day.”

“Here.” Chaz leans toward me and grabs a water bottle from the console.

The crinkle of the plastic echoes in the confined space.

“Thanks.” I take it, feeling the coolness against my palm.

“Drink up,” he urges, watching me closely.

I twist the cap off and take a long sip.

The crisp water washes away the dryness in my throat.

I glance between the three of them—Chaz’s protective gaze, Bull’s imposing body, and Miles’ fierce concentration.

“So,” I start off, my heart racing but not from fear anymore. “What’s the plan?”

Bull glances at me in the rearview mirror, his eyes sharp. “First, we’re grabbing you some food. Then we head back to the clubhouse. Cheyenne needs to check you out.”

“Check me out?” I arch an eyebrow. “I’m fine. I don’t need her to do that.”

Bull’s eyes drill into my own in the mirror. “It’s not optional, kid.”

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