Page 91 of The Keeper

Determined to keep Derek distracted long enough for her to call for help, I arched up and sank my teeth into the area between his neck and shoulder.

His hand closed around my throat, squeezing mercilessly, and cutting off my air supply. Black spots danced before my eyes, but I bit down harder until the sharp, coppery tang of blood flooded my mouth.

“You crazy bitch!” Derek hissed, punching my side with his freehand. “What happens when you get tired, huh? You can’t fucking do this all day.”

I could feel his blood seeping through my clothes. Four of my five bullets had struck his body. I just had to hold on long enough for him to die from blood loss.

My lungs burned for oxygen, and my vision dimmed at the edges, but before I could succumb to the encroaching darkness, Derek was suddenly and forcefully yanked off my body. I sucked in a ragged breath before rolling onto my side, coughing and spitting blood.

“She’s got me, you piece of shit motherfucker!”

I blinked hard, my vision clearing enough to see Dane had Derek pinned against the wall by his throat. His feet kicked wildly from where they dangled above the floor as he clawed at Dane’s hands, his face turning a mottled purple as he fought for air. But Dane’s grip was relentless, fueled by a blind, all-consuming rage I’d never witnessed before.

There was an audible crunch, and then Derek’s body went limp, his head lolling at an unnatural angle as he crumpled to the floor in a lifeless heap.

Head still spinning from lack of oxygen, I pushed myself across the blood-slicked hardwood, trying to find Ivy. The acrid stench of gunpowder and blood mingled in the air, making my stomach churn.

Dane reached me in an instant, his face a mask of rage smoothed into concern as he caught sight of my battered form. He grabbed my shoulders, keeping me grounded and viscerally present despite the chaos.

“Don’t move, darlin’,” he instructed urgently, the timbre of his voice revealing his own barely constrained panic.

“I need to get to Ivy,” I managed through clenched teeth, my voice hoarse from screaming and the stranglehold Derek had had on me. Sharp, blinding pain lanced through my torso when I attempted to push myself up, knocking the air from my lungs and forcing me back down.

“Piper, need you to look at me,” he insisted, his hands gentle yet unyielding as they held me down. “Carnage is getting Ivy to a hospital?—”

“My mom,” I said with a strained groan. “You have to check on my mom.”

Dane’s brow furrowed as he inspected my side. “Nails has your mom. She’s okay, but he’s taking her to a hospital just to be sure, okay? Fuck,” he muttered, his fingers probing gently under my shirt where warm wetness clung to my skin. “I can’t tell how deep these are.”

He brushed over the spot Derek had struck me with his fist, causing my vision to go black for a second.

“Stop,” I whimpered, batting his hand away. “It’s his blood. Not mine. The bastard just hit me. We need to check on Ivy and my mom.”

Had I said that already? I couldn’t remember.

His expression shifted, the grim lines deepening. “Baby, you’ve been stabbed.”

“No,” I argued, hissing out a breath when he lifted me in his arms. “Don’t leave Ivy here with him. I need—” Whatever I intended to say next faded into a choked gasp as a wave of dizziness washed over me, and my vision tunneled into darkness.

TWENTY-SEVEN

PIPER

Ivy & Piper’s Guide to Life Rule Number Eighteen:

Never make major life decisions when ovulating.

Ijerked awake with a sharp, shuddering breath, my body twisting before a bolt of blinding pain ripped through my ribs, stealing the breath from my lungs.

“Easy, baby. Try not to move too much.” Dane grasped my shoulders before easing me back against the bed. He adjusted the pillow behind my head, and I clenched my teeth, biting back a slew of curse words.

“Where…” I blinked against the harsh fluorescent lights, the sharp, antiseptic smell synonymous with hospitals invading my nostrils. I struggled to orient myself, my heart rate spiking on the monitor beside the bed. “Any updates on Ivy?” I croaked, my voice rough and gravelly.

Dane smoothed his hand over my blood-crusted hair, his touch grounding me. “She’s still in surgery, but as soon as I hear anything else, I’ll let you know. I promise.”

It was the same answer he’d given me the last few times I’d surfaced from the murky depths ofoblivion.

I nodded, letting my eyes drift shut again. My mind felt like it was shrouded in a thick fog, thoughts slipping away before I could grasp them, blurring together until I couldn’t distinguish my dreams from reality. I had the short-term memory of a goldfish. The IV drip of pain meds wasn’t helping matters.

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