It was hard enough telling Luke.
We’re all gathered in his hotel room now. It’s spacious enough for all of us, but it doesn’t feel that way. The air is thick and heavy. Some are perched on the sofa, some are sitting on the bed, and others are standing with their arms crossed or hands in their pockets. I sit on the edge of the bed next to Alana, my hands clasped together in my lap, trying to keep them from shaking.
The others are chatting lightly amongst themselves, unaware.
Laughing softly.
Like nothing is falling apart.
“Okay guys, there’s a reason I called you all here for this emergency meeting,” Luke calls out, his tone firm but not harsh.
The chatter dies instantly, and heads turn.
Tank scans the room, frowning. “Yo, where’s Mercs?”
The question hits like a punch. I sniff and squeeze my eyes shut as I release a heavy breath, trying to steady myself. When I open them again, every single person in the room is looking at me.
The silence shifts.
It turns uncomfortable.
“Hey, is something wrong?” Alana’s voice is soft as she reaches for my hand.
I grip hers immediately, linking our fingers like I’m anchoring myself to something solid.
“Is Mercs okay?” Tank asks, concern creeping into his tone.
I shake my head once.
It feels like I’m about to step off a cliff.
“Effa, you’re scaring me,” Alana whispers, sliding closer to me.
I glance at Luke. He gives me a subtle nod. Swallowing hard, I take a breath that doesn’t quite fill my lungs. “At six this morning, Mercs got a phone call…”
My throat tightens, and I clear it gently, forcing the words out, “Kiera…” I inhale deeply to give me strength. “Kiera is deteriorating in the hospital. Gran called Mercs home because she isn’t sure how Kiera is going to continue faring in the coming days.”
The gasp that ripples through the room is sharp and collective.
It makes everything feel more real.
My stomach churns violently as tears flood my eyes again. I blink them back, but they don’t listen.
A loud huff cuts through the silence.
I look up just in time to see Raoul’s face contort with raw, unfiltered pain. His jaw clenches, and he slams his hand down on the table beside him. The bang echoes through the room like a gunshot.
No one moves.
He spins abruptly, heavy boots stomping across the carpet as he storms toward the door. We all watch, stunned, as he yanks it open and disappears through it, slamming it shut behind him.
The door shudders with the force and I jump at the sound.
My breath turns short and sharp, my chest tight as fresh tears threaten to spill over.
No one speaks.
Everyone is trying to hold it together.
