Page 3 of Deadly Passion

Ivy Penrose deserved to bleed for her lies, but he decided to be her knight in shining armour and jump in front of a bullet. What happened to feminism? Equal rights, equal fights—am I right?

Freddie’s gun still points at where the shooter stood a few seconds before. The sound of it firing reverberates through the lower floor, making my brain rattle and eardrums ring.

“Bram!” Freddie lowers his weapon and spins to see Seb dropping to the floor.

Ivy’s already crouched next to Bram, holding his head in her lap and mumbling like she’s never seen a dying man before. You’d think she’d be used to it in her profession, or maybe she’s pretending to care about him.

Does she think we’re that gullible? Her tears are fake, just like the story she’s fed us. Even though her pussy may havedrawn the Dukes in like an irresistible flytrap, holding Bram close to her panties won’t heal his bullet wound.

Bram’s eyelids flutter closed.

“Stay with us,” Seb says, slapping Bram’s cheek.

“We’re here, Bram,” Ivy purrs, stroking his head like he’s her pet.

Seb directs a venomous look her way. His jaw tenses, wrestling the urge to scream at her to let him go. Then he looks at the blood spilling from Bram’s wound, and his anger turns to anguish. He and Bram are close.

A bullet isn’t the only injury the big man has. He has another gnarly mark on his chest, likely from a branding iron, and has an infected cut on his calf. The Killers Club has done a number on him.

Ivy attempts to stem the bleeding. His blood is well and truly on her hands.

“Come on,” Seb murmurs, putting his large hands over Ivy’s. Bram’s blood slips through their fingers, staining the cuffs of Seb’s white shirt. “Stay awake!”

“We need to get out of here,” Freddie barks. He’s trying to hold it together, but panic lurks behind his words. He turns to me in accusation. “Callen, why are you just standing there?”

Should I let Bram die as a punishment for allowing himself to be kidnapped? I’ve rejoined the Dukes but won’t forget how easily they cast me aside. I know what my brother would do in this situation; Torean would use this opportunity to teach them a lesson, allowing Bram to die to prove a point.

“He’s losing consciousness,” Ivy yells. “Callen! You need to help him!”

Her freckles look more pronounced against her pale skin than usual, accentuating the dark bags under her eyes. She looks almost as shit as Bram does. Still, seeing her again sends bloodrushing to my cock. I shouldn’t be thinking about fucking her at a time like this, except damn… I can’t help myself.

“We need to move him,” I say, making a snap decision and going into autopilot. I’m not my twin. “We’re going to need more space.”

And if we don’t leave now, we’re all going to die when more Killers Club agents arrive to find another dead body we’re responsible for.

Freddie and Seb grunt from exertion as they haul Bram onto his feet. They put his arms over their shoulders and drag his swaying figure over to a nearby van. The same one the Killers Club bundled Bram into when they kidnapped him at the Conservatory. Karmic justice, or what?

Ivy scurries ahead, throwing open the doors for Seb and Freddie to stash him inside.

“Can you drive?” Seb asks Freddie. He’s normally our designated driver, but his hands are shaking more than a chihuahua trying to take a shit on a snowy day. “I-I-I—”

“On it,” Freddie says, not needing to hear anymore.

We already have one life-threatening injury to handle.

“The system recognises the registration plates,” Ivy explains, pointing at a device on the wall. “The keys are waiting in the ignition, and the doors will open automatically, so you can drive straight out.”

She climbs into the back of the van as Freddie gets out.

“We need to go somewhere safe.” I grab Freddie’s arm. “Torean can help us if you’ll let him.”

Freddie’s jaw clenches, even as he nods curtly in resigned reluctance.

“You know where to go,” I say.

We’re out of options.

“Callen!” Ivy yells. “Are you going to get in and do something or let him bleed to death?”

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