Page 82 of Stiletto's Savior

“No,” He shrugs, a grin breaking through. “Better safe than sorry.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I say, tucking the gun into my waistband.

The cold metal against my skin sends a rush through me.

I glance at the house, then back at the guys.

“Ready?” Zane asks, tension radiating from him.

The group of us give a nod, but don’t say a word.

We charge up the steps, hearts pounding, breaths shallow.

The door creaks open, revealing darkness within.

It’s time to show I belong here.

We crash through the door, adrenaline surging.

Zane shouts, his voice echoing in the dimly lit hallway. “Go! Go!”

I’m right behind him, heart pounding in my chest.

The stale air is thick with tension. I smell sweat and fear.

Gunshots ring out—sharp, chaotic. My instincts kick in. I drop low, scanning the room.

Blackjack yells, firing off a round. “On our left!”

I glance over. Two guys scramble for cover, their faces twisted in panic.

I shout, moving to the right. “Cover me!”

Bolt replies, his gun barking as he provides cover fire. “On it!”

I spot movement—a figure ducking behind an old couch.

My stomach tightens. Is that him, or one of his goons?

“Motherfucker,” I growl under my breath.

The Commander has to be here.

“Watch your six!” Chaz warns, but I don’t pay any attention to it.

I’m focused on him.

The man peeks out, eyes wild.

He doesn’t see me yet.

I grip the gun tighter, blood roaring in my ears.

Gunfire erupts again.

A bullet grazes the wall near me, dust flying like confetti.

I ignore it, too focused on the man in front of me.

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