Chapter Four
MERCS
Two Days Later
Effa is still in an induced coma, but the doctors say she’s responding well. Right now, she is stable and improving. Words that sound reassuring until you realize they don’t mean awake.
Her parents land today. They were on a flight from Australia within hours of Luke’s call, and Alana’s been on edge ever since. I don’t ask why, but I can guess.
Are they strict?
Did they hate the girls joining a band?
Do they even know about me?
I have no idea.
All I know is that Alana’s nervous, and that makes me nervous. I don’t even know if Effa told them about us. I always figured I’d meet them eventually.
Just not like this.
I tighten my hold on Effa’s hand. The doctor said they might start bringing her out of the coma tomorrow, depending on her brain response. It’s a waiting game now, seeing what damage, if any, the Rohypnol and lack of oxygen left behind.
I replay that night more than I should.
I can only hope I did enough.
The door opens, and a nurse steps inside with a small smile. “Afternoon. Her parents are on their way in. We’ll need you to head back to the waiting area for now.”
My pulse jumps, but I nod.
I lean down and brush my lips against Effa’s cheek. “I’ll be back soon, beautiful,” I murmur, reluctant to let her hand go.
Andi and I step out into the hallway, where everyone has practically set up camp these last two days. The whole crew’s here—the band, Luke, Tank, Jay, Raoul, Cooper with his stitched-up arm. No one’s left Effa’s side.
That’s what family does.
The sharp click of heels and the heavy rhythm of running shoes echo down the corridor, and we turn at the same time.
A man and a woman are heading straight for us.
The man is tall, with gray hair falling across his forehead in a way that feels more deliberate than messy.
He looks worn from travel but solid, broad-shouldered, weathered, the kind of man who’s worked hard his whole life.
His khaki jacket hangs open over a flannel shirt and jeans that look older than I am. There’s something grounded about him.
The woman beside him is the opposite—vibrant, styled, unmistakably Effa’s people. Her blonde hair falls to her shoulders in soft waves, her makeup flawless despite the long flight. A flowing tie-dyed kaftan trails around her as she floats rather than walks. Even exhausted, she radiates energy.
“Mum!” Alana rushes forward.
They fold her into a hug immediately. The woman, Lettie, I assume, covers Alana’s face in lipstick-mark kisses until Alana protests.
“Mum, stop! I’m fine.”
Lettie pulls back just enough to study her. “I needed to see you, darling.”
The man’s gaze sweeps the room before landing on Luke. His jaw tightens before he asks, “How is she?”
Luke steps forward, offering his hand. “She’s improving. They’re hoping to remove the ventilator tomorrow.”
The man takes the handshake but doesn’t soften. “You were meant to look after her.”
The words land heavy.
Luke doesn’t deflect. “I know. I’m sorry.”
It’s strange seeing Luke like this with his shoulders squared, but his voice edged with guilt.
The man exhales slowly. “I’m not pretending I’m not angry. When you took them on tour, you promised they’d be safe.”
Alana steps in quickly. “Donny, this wasn’t Luke’s fault. If you’re blaming anyone, blame Jett Jones. He’s the one who drugged her.”
Donny’s expression darkens. “Where was her American boyfriend?”
There it is.
I step forward before anyone else can answer.
“That would be me,” I say evenly, offering my hand. “Kaden Mercury. Most people call me Mercs.”
He doesn’t take it.
He just studies me, his eyes sharp.
“Where were you?”
Well, there’s no dodging it.
“I was on the phone with my sister. She’s sick. Effa went to the party ahead of me. When I got there, Jett had already drugged her. She collapsed in front of me. I performed CPR until the ambulance arrived.”
The memory hits harder when saying it out loud.
“I should’ve been there,” I add. “I won’t pretend otherwise.”
The hallway falls quiet.
Donny’s gaze doesn’t waver. Then, without warning, his fist shoots forward.
I brace for impact.
Instead, his hand opens.
“Kid,” he says. “You may not have been there at the start, but you were there at the end. You brought her back.”
I stare at his hand for half a second before shaking it. His grip is firm, calloused, deliberate.
“You’re all right with me,” he adds. “Now stop calling me sir. I’m Donny.”
A breath I didn’t realize I was holding leaves my lungs. “Thank you, Donny. I care about her. More than anything.”
“You’ll prove that,” he replies. “My girl deserves the best.”
Lettie claps her hands softly. “Oh, this is lovely. All of us together again. Very groovy.”
Alana laughs and presses a kiss to her mother’s cheek. “I’ve missed you.”
Donny’s expression shifts again as he remembers why he’s here. “Luke. Can we see her?”
Luke nods and gestures down the hall.
As they move past me, Donny gives me a small nod. “Stick around, kid.”
“Wouldn’t be anywhere else,” I answer.
When they disappear down the corridor, I finally let my shoulders drop. I bend forward slightly, hands on my knees, drawing in a slow breath.
“You okay?” Alana asks quietly.
“Yeah,” I admit. “Thought he might punch me.”
She smiles. “He was testing you. Donny’s protective, but once he likes you, you’re in for life.”
“That quick?”
“When it comes to Effa? Yeah.”
I huff a quiet laugh. “One hurdle down.”
She raises an eyebrow. “What’s the next one?”
“Effa waking up.”
The humor fades because that’s the only thing that matters now.
The fear still sits there, unspoken but constant. Brain damage. Memory loss. Impairments no one can predict yet.
None of that changes anything.
If she wakes up different, I stay.
If she wakes up exactly the same, I stay.
There isn’t a version of this where I walk away.
But first, she has to open her beautiful eyes.
And that’s the only thing I want right now.