Page 83 of Stiletto's Savior

My sights lock onto him.

He’s scrambling backward now, fear creeping into his expression.

“Hey!” I shout, steadying my aim. “You who I think you are?”

He looks up, recognition dawning. “I sure the hell am, you little fuck.”

I pull the trigger, but the shot misses.

The Commander ducks behind a rotting bookshelf—a coward’s move.

“Come out and play, you bastard! After all, you like takin’ out your anger on innocent people, right?” I shout.

He emerges, gun aimed right at me.

My breath catches in the pit of my stomach.

Oh, it’s on.

“Stop before I fuckin’ kill you!” he yells, a mad glint in his eye.

There’s no way in hell I’m stopping, not after what he put my woman through.

I charge forward, fury fueling my steps.

The world narrows to just us two.

He pulls the trigger. A deafening crack echoes, but I’m quicker.

I dive low, grabbing his wrist.

“Let fucking go of me!” He struggles, but I twist hard.

The gun clatters to the floor.

I shove him back, hard. “Nice try.”

He stumbles, tripping over a loose board, and goes crashing down the stairs.

“Ugh!” His body thuds against the wooden steps, limbs sprawled like a broken marionette.

“Get up!” I bark, stalking after him.

He tries—grunting, bracing himself on the railing.

But it’s too late.

The Commander groans, dragging himself upright.

The sight makes my blood boil.

“Pathetic.”

With one swift motion, I plant my boot square into his face.

The impact sends him crashing back down, head hitting the wood with a sickening smack.

“Stay down, you dumb fuck.”

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