Page 81 of Stiletto's Savior

“Depends on your definition of fun,” I shoot back, smirking.

As we pull away from the clubhouse, the tires crunching gravel beneath us, I stare out the window.

Trees blur by, the landscape shifting into something wild and untamed.

It’s beautiful here, but even in the beauty of Big Sky country there are monsters lurking around every corner.

“Got a plan?” Bolt asks, his voice rich with curiosity.

“Improvise. That’s my specialty,” I retort, a grin breaking through.

The guys laugh, the tension easing a little.

“That’s what I like to hear,” Blackjack chimes in. “We’ll have your back.”

“Just focus on the job,” Zane says, his expression hardening once more. “No room for mistakes.”

“Understood.” I nod, determination solidifying within me.

We’re rolling into the unknown, but I won’t falter. Not today.

After a little over two hours the truck rumbles to a stop, dried up salt swirling like ghosts around us.

I peer through the windshield, taking in the single house on the property we’ve pulled up to.

It’s an old place, weathered wood and peeling paint.

No neighbors for miles.

A perfect place for a safe house.

“Here we are,” Zane says, his voice low and steady.

“Looks cozy,” I mutter, sarcasm lacing my words.

My heart races. This is real. We’re on the edge of something dark.

“Stay sharp,” Zane warns as he swings open the door.

The others pile out, each of them moving with purpose.

I follow, adrenaline buzzing beneath my skin.

“Let’s go!” Blackjack barks, leading the way as we approach the front steps.

“Right behind you,” I reply, trying to match their intensity.

But I’m no stranger to danger. Not anymore.

Blackjack turns to me, a gun suddenly in his hands. “Here.”

I take it, my fingers brushing against his.

The weight feels foreign. “What do I need this for? I don’t really need it. I use my hands.”

His eyes narrow, fierce determination etched into his features. “Take it anyway. You might change your mind.”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “You think I’m scared?”

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