Page 47 of Stiletto's Savior

I hesitate for a moment, then push the door open. “Look, I know you’re mad. I get you want to be left alone, but we’re all here to support you. It’s not wrong to lean on the people you love when you’re struggling.”

The room is dim, shadows dancing along the walls.

My heart races as I scan the space.

The bed is unmade, clothes strewn about, but… no Song.

Alexa and Cheyenne just came from up here, so she couldn’t have gotten far.

“Where the hell are you?” I mutter, anxiety creeping in.

I step inside, the floor creaking under my weight.

I raise my voice, panic clawing at my throat. “Song?”

Still nothing.

“Come on,” I breathe, moving deeper into the room.

My eyes dart around, searching every corner, the knot in my stomach tightening.

I glance at the bathroom door, slightly ajar.

It’s quiet. Too quiet.

I stride over and shove it open.

“Song, come on.”

The door jams against something heavy.

I shove harder, straining against the weight.

Okay, she’s in here.

“Come on, Song! Let me in!”

I push and I shove with all my might.

Finally, it swings wide, revealing tiles soaked in crimson.

“Shit!”

My blood runs cold.

There she is—on the floor, unconscious.

Blood oozes from her wrists, pooling around her like a dark halo.

“No, no, no!” I rush forward, my heart racing, each beat echoing in my ears.

I drop to my knees beside her.

Panic grips me. I grab her shoulders, shaking gently.

Her skin feels ice-cold.

“Come on, don’t do this!”

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