Dylan snaps his head toward her, disbelief and fury warring on his face. “That’s fucking insane. We can’t let him do that.”
“We don’t have a choice,” Marcus says quietly, his expression worn. “We have to get him on that stage.”
Dylan’s usual carefree demeanor vanishes as he scoffs, slumping into the seat beside Jax.
“I know, Dyl,” Lily says gently, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s awful, and I hate this, but if we don’t… he could die. He needs a proper detox. Harris says he has a plan. We have to trust him.”
Dylan’s hard expression softens when his eyes meet Lily’s. She settles into the seat on the other side of Jax, stretching her arm across his still form. Without hesitation, Dylan clasps her hand like a lifeline, his slow nod the only sign of his reluctant agreement.
I sink into a seat, my gaze fixed on Jax’s motionless body. Lily sits beside him, her arm stretched protectively across our lead singer, gripping Dylan’s hand with one of hers while holding tightly onto Jax’s with the other. It’s as if she’s the only thing keeping him tethered to this world.
The plane takes off, the roar of the engines vibratingthrough me. “We’re going to get through this,” she whispers, her voice trembling, barely loud enough to hear over the noise of the plane. “I promise.”
But as we climb higher into the sky, I can’t shake the helplessness that wraps itself around me. We’re flying toward uncertainty, with nothing but fragile hope to hold onto. Whatever happens next, we’re walking a tightrope—and the fall feels closer than ever.
CHAPTER 8
THE LONGEST DAY
LILY
The plane ride feels endless,every second stretching into eternity. Tension wraps around us like a vice, too thick to cut through with words. Jax lies on a fully reclined seat in the center of the cabin, his face pale, his body twitching and mumbling incoherently. The rest of us sit around him, silent and hollowed out by exhaustion. The hum of the engines drone on, a steady backdrop to our collective worry.
I sit beside Dylan, my hand resting on his knee, trying to draw some comfort from his presence. His usual lightheartedness is gone, replaced by a dark, brooding look. Across from us, Enzo stares out the window, his anger simmering just beneath the surface, while Marcus leans forward, elbows on his knees, trying to look composed but betraying the weight on his shoulders.
None of us talk about what we’ve seen on this flight, what we have helped Jax do--this is supposed to be a three-hour flight but feels more like seventy-five. Thesilence stretches between us, heavy and suffocating, as we will it to be over.
I have little faith in Harris or whatever plan he’s cooked up, but I can’t let the others see my doubt. Right now, the only thing I can offer is the illusion of confidence, so that’s what I’ll do. I’ll play the part, no matter how much it feels like I’m crumbling inside.
When we finally land, I breathe a small sigh of relief. The airfield is private, quiet, and hidden away from the world.
A blacked-out SUV waits for us on the tarmac, sleek and anonymous. We work together to load Jax into the vehicle, accompanied by a nurse who rode over with the driver. Her sharp eyes sweep over Jax with the kind of practiced calm that only years in her profession could bring.
The ride to the hotel is quiet, save for the noises of the engine and the occasional cough from Jax. I glance at him repeatedly, each time I feel my heart tightening in my chest. He’s so still, so thin. His cheeks are sunken in and his eyes are hollow. It’s worse than I ever could have imagined.
Days. He was only gone for a few days, and he looks like he is wasting away already.
The driver pulls up to the back of a towering building and parks the car. He turns to Marcus, handing him a set of key cards. “These are for the suite on the top floor. You’ll want to use the service elevator,” he says, nodding toward a discreet door near the rear of the building. “Go in through there and head straight up.”
Marcus gives a curt nod, and we climb out of the van. Enzo hefts Jax onto his shoulders in a fireman’s carry, hismuscles flexing under the strain. Any other time, I might have admired the strength in his arms, but now, the sight just makes my chest ache. Jax’s limp, fragile form is too stark a contrast. I blink back the tears threatening to spill, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other.
We file into the hotel, and I barely register the luxurious surroundings—the polished marble floors, the ornate sconces casting warm light on the walls. Wherever Harris has booked us, it’s undoubtedly the nicest place we’ve stayed so far, but the grandeur feels hollow in the face of everything that’s happening.
The elevator opens into a short hallway with just one door, a clear sign this suite takes up the entire floor. We step out, and Marcus scans the key card, letting us into a space so opulent it feels obscene given the situation.
The suite is massive, with lush furnishings, a private elevator entrance that likely leads directly to the lobby, and multiple rooms branching off the main living area. Everything gleams—soft lighting, rich fabrics, and polished surfaces—as if mocking the situation we’re in.
Ignoring our surroundings, my focus shifts immediately to the nurse, who wastes no time setting up supplies on the coffee table. Her movements are efficient, deliberate, and her demeanor is sharp with authority. “I’ll be administering a 24-hour detox,” she announces briskly, her gaze sweeping across all of us, leaving no room for argument. “We need to start immediately.”
Her words hit me like a slap. I stare at her, my voice trembling as I blurt out, “A 24-hour detox? Is that even safe?”
“It’s not ideal,” she replies, her tone firm but not unkind. “But it’s what we have to work with. He’ll bemonitored closely the entire time, but you need to understand—it won’t be easy.”
“This is bullshit,” Enzo snaps, his voice sharp with anger. “We’re supposed to just watch him suffer for 24 hours?”
The nurse ignores him and continues prepping. “I will need to set up in one of the rooms for the entirety of the detox. One of you can stay with him, but the rest will need to leave him be. He’ll need space, and so will you.”
“I’ll stay,” I say immediately, stepping forward.
