Page 48 of Stiletto's Savior

I swallow hard, the metallic scent of blood filling the air.

I can’t think straight.

I need to act.

“Stay with me,” I whisper, desperation clawing at my throat.

I glance around, searching for something—anything—to help.

My shirt.

It’ll have to do.

I tear the fabric, the sound ripping through the silence.

I bind her wrists as tightly as I can manage, trying to staunch the flow.

“God, please,” I murmur, cradling her head in my lap. “You can’t leave me like this.”

Her hazel green eyes, usually so full of fire, are closed.

I refuse to let this be the end.

I scoop her up, cradling her against my chest.

She’s lighter than I expected, but the weight of dread crushes me.

I push through her bedroom door, nearly stumbling down the hall.

Panic fuels my legs. I burst onto the stairwell, my heart racing.

“Help! Somebody help!”

Faces turn—Cheyenne, Bull, Alexa, Siren.

They freeze when they see Song in my arms, eyes wide.

“What happened?” Cheyenne gasps, stepping closer.

My voice booms, desperate and raw. “She slit her wrists!”

“Shit, no!” Bull’s eyes darken.

“We have to get her to a hospital! Now!” My words are clipped, urgency dripping from each syllable.

“Let’s go!” Siren screams, already moving.

“Move!” I shout again, shifting Stiletto in my arms.

The warmth of her body feels wrong against the coldness of her skin.

“Go, go!”

As we rush toward the door, it feels like I can barely breathe.

“You don’t get to die today, Song, not when we haven’t even started our story.”

I push through the front door into the frigid air.

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