Page 29 of Steel Vengeance

“He’s... a friend,” she continued, even though that wasn’t at all what they were. “An American. He won’t tell anyone.”

Aaliyah gave a quick nod. “Can you call him?”

“I think so.”

Her fingers shook as she pulled out her phone and dialed Stitch’s number.

Please, pick up,she prayed.

After a few rings, he did.

“Sloane? You okay?” How did he know it was her?

“Hi, Stitch.” His name sounded strange on her lips. She’d never actually said it to his face, only in her head when she thought about him. “There’s a medical emergency at the center. I need your expertise.”

There was a pause. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine. It’s not me.” She took a deep breath, glancing at Fatima, who looked even paler now. “There’s a woman here who really needs your help.”

“What’s wrong with her?” His voice had shifted into something sharp, focused.

Sloane exhaled, relieved he wasn’t saying no. “She tried to terminate an unwanted pregnancy, but he wasn’t qualified, and now she’s bleeding out. I don’t think she has much time.”

There was no hesitation. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. I need to pick up some supplies first. Give me twenty minutes.”

The line went dead.

“He’s coming,” Sloane told the other women. She just hoped twenty minutes wouldn’t be too late.

When Stitch arrived,Fatima was drenched in sweat, moaning and barely coherent.

It didn’t look good.

“Thank God you’re here,” Sloane said as he strode into the room. “She’s in a bad way.”

They’d eased Fatima onto the floor, but it was clear she was in serious pain.

“Everyone back,” Stitch barked, dropping to his knees. The women quickly scattered.

“Can you get them out of here?” he asked Sloane without looking up.

She nodded and ushered the women out of the room. As soon as they were gone, Stitch opened his rucksack, pulling out a military-grade medical kit, a bottle of disinfectant, and other supplies she didn’t recognize.

With the room clear, he got to work.

“What’s her name?”

“Fatima,” Sloane replied, standing at the side, feeling helpless.

“Fatima, can you hear me?” he asked, his voice calm.

Fatima nodded weakly, her tear-filled eyes half-closed.

“I’m going to help you. I’ll give you something for the pain, alright?”

Another nod.

Sloane held her breath as he pulled out a syringe and small vial of medication. With practiced precision, he drew up the liquid and injected it into Fatima’s arm, all while murmuring reassurances in a calm, steady voice.