Page 7 of Stiletto's Savior

“Why don’t you?” He leans against the wall, arms crossed.

“Because this is my life now.” My voice is sharper than I intended.

“Right.” He smirks. “Because dodging fists at a club is way better than fighting for a title.”

“Dude, you have no idea what you’re talkin’ about,” I shoot him a glare. “You think just because he was champ, I want to follow in those footsteps? Nah.”

“Can’t deny you’ve got skills.” His tone shifts, more serious now. “You could go far.”

“Maybe.” I flex my fingers, feeling the burn. “But I don’t wanna be Chip Lion’s kid forever. I want to be out from under my father’s shadow.”

“Is that why you won’t call him back?” Damian presses.

“Not this again.” I shake my head. “I can handle my own shit.”

“Sure, but he’s just trying to help. You know how he is.”

“Help or pressure me into something I don’t really want?” I retort, clenching my jaw.

“Same thing, right?”

“Not even close.” I glance at the street, watching a couple stumble by. “I’m not fighting for anyone but myself.”

“Then do it.” His voice softens. “Prove to him that you can do it on your own, without his help.”

“Yeah, maybe one day.” I shrug, but the thought sits heavy.

“Someone’s gotta step up.”

“Not tonight.” I shake off the weight, forcing a grin. “Tonight, I’m just a bouncer. That’s all I need.”

“Right. Just a bouncer.” Damian laughs, but there’s truth in his words.

“Let’s see if we can keep it that way.” I lean back against the wall, heart still racing, ready for whatever comes next.

“Everything okay? You seem a little off, and I think it has to do with something other than your father,” he asks, voice low.

“Not sure,” I reply, heart pounding.

I run a hand over my face, the world spinning around me. Stiletto—kidnapped. It feels unreal.

“I need to leave tomorrow,” The words tumble out, heavy with fear and fury. “To Montana.”

“Montana?” Damian raises an eyebrow. “What the hell is in bumblefuck Montana?”

“The twins,” I say, barely a whisper.

He stiffens, eyes widening. “You mean Suyin and Song?”

Damian has known me for years and he too grew up in the Bronx. Almost everyone knew the twins, or their mother, Susu.

“Yeah.” My fists clench at my sides.

The news hit like a gut punch—unexpected and brutal.

“They need help,” I add, feeling a surge of protectiveness for them.

“You going out that way to help?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

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