Chapter Twenty-Five #2
Sniffing, I force myself to continue, “Mercs is using the jet to fly home to be with Kiera and Gran. He wants time alone with his family. But he wants us to go on. To continue the tour. And then at Christmas, I’m going to go and spend time with them.
” My voice trembles but doesn’t break. “He’s in a world of pain right now.
Especially not knowing where things will go with Kiera.
It really doesn’t look good. But knowing we’re here for him…
that we’ve got his back… that’s what he needs. ”
Tank exhales slowly, shaking his head as Andi curls into his side. “I don’t even know what to say to him,” Tank murmurs. “I just can’t believe it. The treatment was supposed to work.”
“I know,” I whisper.
Luke pushes off from where he’s leaning against the table and steps forward, his presence grounding.
“It’s horrible,” he says evenly. “But if Mercs wants us to keep going, we do it. We do it for him and for Kiera. She believes in Luminous. She loves this band, this crew… so we keep going. You keep going. You’re all strong, just like she is. ” His words steady the room.
I wipe at my cheeks and straighten my spine. “For Kiera,” I say quietly at first.
Then louder. “For Kiera.”
“For Kiera,” they all echo.
We rise together.
And even though the grief is thick in the air, there’s something else there too.
Unity and resolve.
We will carry this for him.
We will carry this for her.
MERCS
The thought that Kiera is having difficulties is scaring the absolute shit out of me.
I didn’t think it was possible to feel fear like this again. Not after Vex. Not after the alley.
But this? This is worse. This is helpless.
I’m running through the hospital corridors, my breath ragged, my ribs screaming with every stride, but I don’t slow down.
The fluorescent lights blur overhead as I try to remember the room number Gran mentioned.
My lungs burn, my vision tunnels, and every second feels like it’s slipping through my fingers.
I round a corner and spot Gran speaking quietly to a nurse outside one of the rooms, and the sight of her stops me dead for half a heartbeat.
She looks smaller somehow. Hunched and exhausted, like the weight of the world is pressing down on her shoulders.
My chest squeezes so tight it nearly knocks the air out of me.
No.
No, no, no.
I don’t let myself think as I sprint the last few steps.
“Thank you, Jess,” Gran says to the nurse just as I reach them.
She turns toward me as I grind to a halt, my backpack slipping from my shoulder and hitting the floor at our feet. Her eyes mist instantly, and that alone tells me more than words ever could.
I don’t hesitate to wrap my arms around her, holding her tighter than I have in years. “Tell me she’s okay?” The words are barely controlled.
She holds me just as tightly, but I feel it when she shakes her head. “It’s not good, Kaden. She’s fading so fast…” Her voice wavers as she pulls back to look at me. “It’s bad, sweetheart. I-I’m so glad you got here in time.”
In time.
In time for what?
My stomach churns violently. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Kiera was supposed to be improving. The procedure was supposed to help. We did everything right.
This is not how this story goes.
Shaking my head, I swallow against the bile rising in my throat. “Can I see her?”
Gran nods, squeezing my arm. “Of course, sweetheart. She’s out of it most of the time, but I know… she’ll know you’re here.”
I bend down, grab my backpack with unsteady hands, and take Gran’s hand as we move toward the room.
The smell hits me first, so goddamn sterile, clinical, and cold.
I push through the partially drawn curtain and step inside.
And the world narrows.
Kiera is lying in bed.
There’s a drip hanging from her arm. Machines monitor her silently. Her face is pale. Gaunt. Thinner than the last time I saw her. Her eyes are closed, lashes resting against skin that looks almost translucent.
She looks like she’s sleeping.
But she doesn’t look like my sister.
“Oh fuck…” The words leave me before I can stop them.
My chest tightens painfully. I drop my backpack to the floor again without even noticing and move toward my sister on instinct.
I take her hand.
It’s cold.
Too cold.
I cover it with both of mine, rubbing gently, trying to warm her skin, trying to push life back into her through sheer force of will.
“It’s going to be fine, Kiera,” I whisper, my voice shaking.
“I’m here now. You’re going to be okay. You can fight this, booger-butt.
I know you can… we can do this together. ”
The nickname feels fragile in the air.
Heavy footsteps echo behind me, and I look up to see a doctor in a long white coat stepping into the room, clipboard in hand. His expression is composed and professional, but detached.
I straighten automatically, though I feel anything but steady.
“I’m assuming you’re Kiera’s brother?”
I nod.
“Okay, now that the family is here, I can discuss options with you.”
Options.
The word lands wrong.
I crack my neck to the side, tension coiling through me. “Options? What do you mean?”
He exhales and lowers the clipboard slightly. “Kiera isn’t progressing the way we had hoped. She’s deteriorating quite rapidly, and we need to consider what might happen if her functions give out.”
My muscles seize.
“What? No!” The word explodes out of me. “She isn’t going to stop fighting. We are not talking about fucking DNR orders or whatever the fuck you’re going to start throwing down our throats. Don’t you dare come in here talking about this shit in front of her.”
His expression doesn’t shift much. “It’s something that needs to be discussed. Kiera’s rapid decline is of concern, and she might not make it through the night…”
The rest of his words fade.
The room blurs at the edges.
‘She might not make it through the night.’
Oh fuck! I can’t breathe.
The walls feel like they’re pressing in.
The machines are too loud.
The air is too thin.
I can’t stand here.
I can’t listen to him talk about my sister like she’s already gone.
Letting go of Kiera’s hand feels like ripping something out of my chest, but I stumble backward anyway. “I need air,” I mutter, though I’m not sure anyone hears me and I bolt.
Out of the room.
Down the corridor.
The words chase me.
‘She might not make it through the night.’
She can’t die.
She can’t.
A world without my beautiful sister is not a world I want to exist in.
I push through the hospital doors and stagger into the cold air outside. The chill hits my lungs, sharp and grounding, but it doesn’t clear the fog. I find a bench without really seeing it and collapse onto it, elbows braced on my knees. “Fuck!” The shout tears out of me, raw and cracked.
Kiera.
My precious sister.
Everything I’ve done—every gamble, every risk, every sacrifice—was for her, and it still might not be enough.
My vision blurs as tears spill freely now, unchecked. I tip my head back and stare at the sky, desperate for something steady.
That’s when I see it.
The brightest star, sitting close to the moon.
The sight punches the air from my lungs.
Stage Rock.
That night.
The memory flickers to life so vividly it almost hurts, and for a fraction of a second, the crushing weight on my chest eases. Because I swear I can feel Effa with me, even from miles away.
Like she’s holding me together.
And the memory drags me under.
“I think that star right there, that really bright one next to the moon…” I pointed to it, and Effa nodded, looking at the giant light in the sky.
“I think that should be our star. It shines as brightly as you. No matter where we are in the world, no matter what we’re doing, we can look at that star and remember this night.
Know we’re connected, even if we’re a world apart. ”
She wrapped her arm around my knee and held onto me as we both stared up at the stars, not saying a single word. I leaned in, my lips gently caressing her temple as we sat on the giant rock formation after her outdoor performance at the Red Rocks Amphitheatre.
While gazing at that same bright star, even though I feel completely shattered, even though every part of me is splintering under the weight of what might be coming, I know Effa’s with me.
I can feel her.
Not physically, not in some mystical way, but in the way her voice settles my chaos. In the way her hands steady me when I’m unraveling. In the way she looks at me like I’m stronger than I believe I am. She might even be looking at the same star right now.
Maybe she’s standing somewhere quiet, thinking about me the same way I’m thinking about her. Maybe she’s whispering a prayer to whatever listens. Maybe she’s sending that stubborn, relentless hope of hers straight into the sky.
Knowing she’ll help me through whatever’s about to happen with Kiera is the only thing keeping me upright right now. It’s the only thing anchoring me to the ground instead of letting me collapse into it.
But one thing I do know—
I need to pick myself the hell up.
I need to be the big brother Kiera needs me to be.
I need to walk back into that hospital room and hold her hand like I promised I would.
No matter what tonight brings.
No matter what hell I might endure.
Because whatever the outcome…
I will be by Kiera’s side.
Until the end.