Page 165 of Piece Us Together

Someone who ruins everything.

Not tonight, though. Tonight I’m, “The guy who’s going to get your ass back home.”

He sucks in a shuddering breath, eyes starting to close before popping wide open in panic. He blurts, “My brother!”

“We’re getting him,” I promise. “I’ll be right back, okay? I have to go help. You’re sure you’re okay?”

He nods eagerly, which isn’t a surprise. They’re brothers, after all.

Of course it comes down to brothers.

“I’m heading to room six,” I tell the guys.

“Fuck room six,” Travis says, followed by a grunt of pain. “Need—fuck—need back up.”

I exit the room, ready to go flying down the hall for help. Room six’s guest is outside, though. So is room four’s.

One of them has a gun.

Fuck.

I charge him, his gun going off as I make impact, mine following just a second later. Adrenaline crashes through me as the other man comes at me from behind, wrapping an arm around my throat. I grip his forearm and immediately rock back into his hold before bringing my legs up to kick off of the asshole I just shot. I push off his body as hard as I can, sending me and my choker flying back.

He loses the upper hand.

I put a bullet between his eyes, then turn and add two to the other man’s head before he can recover from wherever the fuck my first bullet hit.

“Trav?” I ask, panting heavily. There’s blood trickling down the side of my face. I’m not sure if it’s mine.

“Ash has him,” Keats updates. “You clear?”

“Yeah.” I look around myself. The walls of the hallway seem to be tilting inward. The lights are dimming. “Yeah. I’m—I’m fine.”

“I’m coming with the bolt cutters,” Ash tells us. “Trav’s watching my back. Keats, we still clear outside?”

“For now. Not sure who got notified when that alarm went off. We might have company soon.”

“We’ll hurry. Mais, can you handle getting the survivors out while I—”

And then the funniest thing happens.

I don’t hear him anymore. I don’t hear any of them.

Something sharp and awful is blooming in my arm, heat trickling down to my fingers.

I remember suddenly, vividly, Hunter standing in the glow of the kitchen lights, asking me if he could use the safeword, asking me if I’d stay then.

The last thing I think isI shouldn’t be here.

Then the world goes black.

Everything fucking hurts when I wake up. My head is swimming, ears ringing, mouth full of cotton, my forearm radiating with a near-searing pain. There’s something on my face. Something wet. I flinch back from it, managing to pry my sore eyes open. It takes a moment for the world to register. Then I see Keats’s face.

He smirks, pulling his hands away. He’s holding a wet wipe. “Well, good morning, pumpkin.”

“Fuck off,” I grumble, my voice sounding like it’s been put through a fucking blender. “What happened?”

“It was my fault. I was tracking what I thought could be two hostels approaching the building. I stopped watching the heat signatures inside. Did one of the guests catch you in the hall?”

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