Page 39 of Stiletto's Savior

My stomach churns.

The club feels like a million miles away.

I can’t think about that shit right now.

I text back, fingers hovering over the screen.

Not sure, man.

I can’t just disappear on him like that. But Song is the only thing running through my mind.

I told Song I’m not going back, but I don’t want to tell Antonio yet.

I just need some fucking time.

Antonio shoots me another text.

Can you tell me anything? I gotta know if I need to look for a new bouncer.

Releasing a breath I didn’t know I was holding onto, I text him back.

Give my shifts to someone else. Not putting you out. Just not coming back anytime soon.

My thumb hovers over the send button, hesitation prickling at me.

There’s a reply from him within seconds.

How long we talking, man?

I reply, frustration spilling into my words.

I don’t have a fucking clue.

I hit send and jam my phone back into my pocket.

“Focus, Miles,” I mutter to myself. I can’t afford to lose sight of why I’m really here.

My heart races as I remember the bruises on her skin, the way her hazel eyes flickered with pain. She needs me, even if she doesn’t want to admit it.

“Get your shit together,” I whisper.

I can’t let Antonio’s problems pull me back.

I lean against the wall, staring at the ground, battling the urge to chase after her again.

But I know what she’ll say; “Just go.”

But the biggest question plaguing my mind is—how do I fight for someone who wants me gone?

I let out a long sigh, the weight of all this uncertainty hanging over me.

“Goddamn it,” I mutter, pinching the bridge of my nose.

I need to clear my head.

Just as I lean my head back against the wall, the door creaks open beside me.

Stiletto steps back outside.

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