Chapter Eighteen
MERCS
Start of November
The day we got the diagnosis that Kiera was sick, it felt like the ground opened beneath me.
Mom had died from the same thing. I’d watched it eat her from the inside out, watched the light fade from her eyes while I stood there useless, too young and too powerless to do a damn thing about it.
So when the doctor said the words, when the air in that sterile office shifted, and the world narrowed to a single ringing note in my ears, I was right back there again.
Except this time, it was my little sister.
Growing up, watching Kiera turn into this stunning, stubborn, sharp-tongued woman… it’s the kind of thing you don’t appreciate until you’re terrified of losing it. She’s always been fire, even when she was stuck inside, even when life tried to cage her, she still burned.
But Kiera has something Mom never had.
She has us.
Gran, me, Effa, and the whole damn chaotic universe that somehow wrapped itself around our small town and refused to let go.
And we’re here now because Effa stepped in. Because she refused to accept that this was the end of Kiera’s story. If it wasn’t for her, I don’t know where we’d be.
Probably still scrambling.
Probably still drowning.
Instead, I’m pacing a hospital room waiting for my stem cells to do what medicine promises they can do, and I’m nervous as fucking hell.
Everyone else is talking like this isn’t the biggest day of my life.
Luke’s discussing tour logistics in a low voice while Raoul’s staring at the floor like someone shot his dog.
Effa’s calm… too calm, and Gran’s murmuring something about positive energy.
Meanwhile, I feel like my skin doesn’t fit.
A hand grips my arm, and I glance down to see the kind face of Gran.
I stop pacing. Her eyes shine, but she doesn’t let the tears fall. She’s weathered and strong, carved from the same mountain we were.
“She will be fine, Kaden,” she says softly. “We’re all here. There’s power in that. Good energy. You have to believe that.”
I swallow and nod once.
Effa moves to Gran’s side, slipping an arm around her waist. “Absolutely. The more of us thinking it, willing it, the better the outcome. She’s going to be fine. You’ll see. She’ll be back in here in no time, bossing everyone around again.”
I let out a breath that feels like it’s been sitting in my lungs for hours.
Effa steps toward me, her hand sliding up my chest, grounding me. “Trust me,” she says quietly. “She’s fine. I can feel it.”
And I believe her.
Effa doesn’t say shit lightly. When she feels something, it’s usually right. She has this strange, steady intuition about people, about situations, like she can read the temperature of the room before anyone else even realizes it’s changed.
“Thanks for being here,” I murmur. “For making this happen. If you hadn’t stepped in—”
She presses her palm to my chest. “Stop. I did. We did. And Kiera’s going to live a long, ridiculously happy life.” Her gaze flicks toward Raoul. “With Raoul.”
I groan. “You just had to add that.”
She grins, and then the sound of wheels rolling over linoleum cuts through the room.
Every conversation dies instantly.
Kiera’s bed is pushed through the doorway, and my chest tightens so hard I have to fight to breathe.
She looks small.
Too small.
But she lifts her head, forcing a smirk. “Don’t all stop talking on my account. Surely someone has gossip. I’ve been gone for what? An hour? I need updates.” Her voice is hoarse, strained, and exhausted.
I move before I even think, grabbing her hand.
Oh God… her skin feels too cool, too fragile.
“How do you feel?” I ask, brushing my thumb over her knuckles.
“Tired, but fine. They pumped in your super blood…” She shrugs weakly. “Ba-da-bing, ba-da-boom… I’m cured.”
A laugh escapes me despite everything. “Easy as that?”
“Seems suspiciously simple for something that costs this much. I’m expecting lobster and champagne in aftercare.”
Gran chuckles, Effa smiles, and even Raoul huffs a breath.
I don’t know how she does it, how she makes this lighter.
Gran leans over her. “I’ll be here for all of it, sweetheart. Every step.”
I glance at Effa.
The tour.
The timing.
The decision I’ve been avoiding.
“I’ll be here too,” I say firmly. “I’m not going anywhere… however long this takes.” The second the words leave my mouth, the room shifts.
Effa stills beside me.
Luke goes quiet.
Raoul looks up.
Kiera’s brows lift. “Kaden,” she says slowly. “What about the tour?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Luke clears his throat. “Reactivation is in two weeks.”
Two weeks.
Fuck.
I exhale and rub a hand over my jaw. “I can’t go. I hope you understand that.”
Effa’s eyes soften. She doesn’t argue, simply rests her hand on my back, and that somehow makes it worse.
Kiera shakes her head. “This is stupid.”
I blink. “Excuse me?”
“I’m going to be sitting here…” she gestures around dramatically, “… doing blood tests and sleeping. What exactly are you going to do? Sit at the end of my bed and stress yourself into an ulcer?”
“Kiera—”
“No. I’ve spent half my life behind closed doors, not living. I am not letting you do the same because of me.” Her voice wavers, but she pushes through. “Go! Live! Come home for Christmas as we planned, and by then I’ll be glowing and upgraded.”
My jaw tightens. “I don’t like leaving mid-treatment.”
“You’re not,” she says. “The procedure’s done. Now it’s monitoring and recovery.”
“There are still risks,” I snap, unable to stop myself. “Rejection, infection… complications.”
She meets my eyes steadily. “If something happens, we call you. It’s that simple.” Silence stretches into uncomfortability. Then she tilts her head. “Effa needs you too, you know. She’s not exactly running at full capacity. I have Gran. Who does Effa have if you stay here?”
Effa huffs a quiet laugh.
And that’s the knife twist.
Because Kiera’s right.
Effa may have her crew, her bandmates, but she doesn’t have someone watching her every second, making sure she eats, rests, takes the meds, and doesn’t push too hard.
That’s me.
And the truth I don’t want to admit?
I want to go.
I love her.
Being away from Effa would tear something out of me. Plus… the lighting gig, the rafters, the adrenaline, the freedom, the whole reason I left Ligonier in the first place, so I could see the world. So I could build something bigger than grief and hospital rooms.
Kiera’s giving me permission to choose that.
I scrub a hand down my face. “I hate this.”
“Good,” she says. “Means you care.”
Luke steps in. “The jet’s on standby whenever you need it. Twenty-four seven, no hesitation.”
I look around the room.
Gran nods.
Raoul gives me a tight smile.
Effa squeezes my hand.
“Fine,” I mutter.
The room seems to exhale and soften.
“But I check in every day,” I add. “Morning and night.”
“Deal,” Kiera says immediately.
Effa leans into me, her voice soft. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For choosing to come back with me.”
“If I could split myself in half, I would. But I can’t. Gran’s here, and I need to look after you. And Tank would absolutely butcher the lighting without me.”
“You’re insufferable.” Effa snorts.
I grin faintly and kiss her.
It’s not easy.
It’s not clean.
But it is right.
There’s more than just emotion tied up in this decision, though.
Work means money.
Money means debt.
And that ugly knot tightens in my stomach.
Vex won’t wait forever.
And now that the procedure’s covered, maybe I can start dividing what I’ve set aside. Pay back Effa and set up an arrangement with Vex.
If he agrees.
If he doesn’t…
I don’t know how much longer I can keep that secret buried.
And that might be the thing that blows everything apart.