A scream escaped my lips as I realized I was about to die hanging in an elevator shaft a dozen stories up. I probably dislocated my arm, and I witnessed my tennis shoe slipping off my right foot and falling down the dark shaft. The guy clutching my hand was the only thing keeping me from meeting the same fate.

He was a stranger, holding onto my hand with one arm and an elevator cable with the other. My heart pounded in my throat, and the ache in my head was getting worse. A thousand questions circled in my brain.

How had the man's fall broken the elevator? Why had this guy come through the emergency hatch in the elevator? What was happening?

"We're going to die," I said.

The guy laughed. "Oh, my best friend would kill me herself if she learned I died in an elevator shaft. Not after the scrapes we've gotten into over the years."

"Just..." I glanced down at the elevator crashed below us, and the sound echoed up back to us as it collided with the ground. "Oh, please don't let go."

"Trust me," he said. "I'm not letting go. Hang on. I just have to reach the string."

In the dim emergency lights, I could make out his dark clothes. They reminded me of military fatigues, except they were made of a strange, not quite leathery material that seemed oddly hard. A dark backpack was slung across his back with several buttons on the straps and one string he was trying to reach with his teeth.

Reaching up, I attempted to yank the string for him. Once my fingers grasped the pull, there was a sharp tug, and two sheets of metal burst from the pack. I realized they were wings the moment they jammed against the sides of the shaft.

Releasing the elevator cable now that he was more secure, he hoisted me against his chest with two hands. It would have been nice being pressed this close to a guy had I, one, known his name, two, had a prior relationship with him, and three, not been trapped in an elevator shaft in close quarters with the guy.

I had a million questions, but I blurted out the first thing that came to mind, "You have wings?"

"Yeah, sorta," he said. "I probably shouldn't have knocked him out, but I didn't have a ton of options. I wasn't about to fire a gun in an elevator, and I only had one hand."

"What is happening?" I asked.

The guy chuckled. "I'm figuring out how to get us out of here because my wings won't help jammed against the sides of the elevator."

He was right. The metal was bent, and we were firmly wedged in the elevator shaft. Which meant we were literally suspended by a backpack. It was only a matter of time before the straps broke under our combined weight.

"We are going to die," I repeated.

"Nonsense," he said. "Now, who knows you were at Mrs. Dorkepski's?"

Apparently, since he knew where I was, he was not only climbing out of emergency hatches but also stalking me. Still, I had more immediate problems, like how to get out of this elevator shaft, so I decided to answer his question.

"My stepsister," I said. "And the rest of my family, but they're all pretty busy."

I didn't know if they'd be worried when I didn't come home right away or if someone in the building noticed the elevator was out of order. Maybe they were calling the cops and emergency services as we spoke. Either that or they were making sure they were all ready for school.

The guy glanced at a device on his wrist. It was large, like a cross between the things football players used to look at plays and a really wide smartwatch.

"Tap the screen," he said.

I reached a finger to touch the screen. It lit up, and the guy glanced at it.

"Wake, Kimmy," he said. "Emergency level."

The screen lit up with a big red dot labeled Kimmy Valan. A few moments later, a robotic voice came through the screen.

"What is your position?"

"Hanging in the elevator shaft," the guy said. "I'm going to need a hand."

"What happened?" The voice asked.

"The target is in the elevator, and I hope you've got a long rope. My wings are wedged, and I'm suspended in the shaft with her."

The woman paused for a long time before she responded. "Is she safe?"

"My arms are around her," the guy said. "And I'm not letting go."

"I'm on my way." The call disconnected.

It aggravated me. I was pressed against his chest, and I didn't even know his name. I took a deep breath. Dad always said that no matter the circumstance, think about solutions. This woman was coming. Or at least she'd call the authorities.

The authorities. It was at that moment I realized that there was likely a dead body at the bottom of the elevator shaft and a ton of property damage. Someone in the lobby had probably already called for help.

Would they blame us? I didn't recognize either of the guys from the apartment complex. Why had this guy saved me, and the other guy tried to grab me? None of this made any sense.

"You're panicking," the guy said. "And I get it. This is complicated, but I promise I will not let you go, Terri."

My stomach dropped. "How do you know my name?"

"I'm not a stalker," he said. "Not like that dude, and I won't hurt you. My name is Moreno, and trust me, I'm one of the good guys."

I directed my attention to his bronze eyes, the sole element of this that didn't unsettle me. "You realize your name means brown in Spanish, right?"

He laughed again. "Yeah, I'm fluent."

"What's your first name, then?" I asked.

"Everyone calls me Moreno. You, of all people, should understand a nickname."

How did he know Terri was my nickname? I hated my given name. I just didn't feel like a Theresa. It was old-fashioned, and Dad always called me Terri.

"Who are you?" I frowned.

I would have pushed him away long before this if I hadn't been hanging in an elevator shaft hundreds of feet from solid ground. Being this close to a guy who wasn't related to me was a little awkward, and for some reason, whether it was his musky scent or my fear-stricken brain, my heart was racing like a freight train.

"Hang in there," he whispered. "Kimmy is coming."

His fingers rubbed my back in small, soothing circles. Hot tears formed behind my eyes, but I didn't want to cry in front of a stranger. I really wanted painkillers for my building headache, too.

"I promise you, we'll get out of here," he said. "I've got you. You're safe."

Somehow, I believed him. I don't know why, but I felt safe in Moreno's arms.

A thick rope end dropped from above with a backpack securely tied to the end. Moreno caught it and carefully maneuvered the pack onto my back. He tightened the straps and tugged on the rope.

"What about you?" I asked.

He grinned. "My job is to get you to safety."

The rope started to tow me up. Heights weren't bad for me. Jilly joked it was because I saw everything at altitude already, but hanging in the elevator shaft alone made my body shake. I wasn't moving fast. I used my long legs to keep from crashing into the walls as I swung precariously. Finally, I saw the light above me.

At the top of the shaft, a woman with a shaved head pulled me out of the elevator hatch on the roof. She quickly disengaged me from the backpack, and I scrambled back. Then she dropped it back down the shaft.

"Thank you," I said.

The woman nodded, but she was focused completely on the rope. A few minutes later, she started pulling. It was strange because she worked in complete silence. She didn't even grunt as she hoisted Moreno onto the roof.

Once he was close enough to the opening, he pulled himself up through the opening with his forearms.

"Thanks," he said once he was sitting on the roof, panting. "Great work, Kimmy."

Kimmy smiled and made several hand gestures. At that moment, I realized why she was so quiet. She had some kind of disability. Moreno nodded at her.

"I'll tell her," he said. "Kimmy says it's good to meet you. Because of a childhood accident, she can't speak, but she can hear you."

"Thank you," I said.

On closer inspection, I could see that the right side of Kimmy's face had mottled skin. The pink and white patches and scar tissue ran to her neck. I couldn't imagine what could have caused that kind of damage, and I was pretty sure if I found out, it would horrify me.

"You also know sign language on top of Spanish," I looked at Moreno.

"I speak half a dozen languages," Moreno said. "Most of us do. Let's get you back home."

"What about the elevator?" I asked.

"Kimmy will deal with it," Moreno said. "We need to find your father."

Kimmy nodded and made a few more signs to Moreno. He nodded and signed back briefly. I silently cursed my cousin Dylan for talking me out of learning American Sign Language and picking Latin instead.

"Has someone called the police?" I asked.

"We'll call the usual team," Moreno said. "But we do need to talk to your father."

With a firm grip on my wrist, he swiftly scanned a card over the door, granting us access to the roof staircase. I don't know how he knew what floor I lived on, much less exactly where our apartment was, but in three minutes, we stood in front of the back door to my penthouse condo.

He didn't ask me for keys. Instead, he pulled a chain from around his neck and produced a key on the end that looked exactly like mine. It fit into the lock, and a shiver went down my spine as he pushed the door open.

The moment he stepped into the apartment, I followed him in, shut the door, grabbed the metal modern art piece by the door to use as a weapon, and screamed.

Hello friends! Sorry for another cliffhanger. What do you think of Terri's rescuer? There's more story to come soon!