Ten Tiny Breaths (Ten Tiny Breaths #1)(56)

And then I don’t know how it happens, but the guy somehow scampers past the bouncers and onto the stage, screaming, “Bitch!” A blade appears. I watch in horror as he grabs hold of Storm’s hair and yanks her head back. Even from my distant vantage point, I see his dilated dark pupils. This guy’s on something.

My jaw drops to scream, but nothing comes out. Not a sound. With a swing of my arm to clear all the glasses off the bar, I spring over and run, shoving people out of the way, kicking and kneeing and punching as I clear a path through. Blood rushes to my head and my feet pound the ground with each heartbeat and all I can think is that I’m going to lose her. Another friend, dead. Mia will grow up without her mother.

This can’t be happening again.

I reach the stage to find a cluster of tight black shirts hovering. I can’t see Storm. I can’t see anything. I push and shove and claw, but I can’t get past the wall. My hands fly to my throat, assuming the worst possible outcome hidden beneath this horde of bodies.

And I pray.

I pray to whoever decided to keep me alive that they grant the same grace for Storm, who deserves it far more than I ever did.

A giant erupts from the crowd bouncers.

Nate.

And he has the guy within his grasp.

He stalks past me with a menacing look, the guy dangling by the neck from one of his fists. I hope he squeezes too tight and crushes the man’s larynx. But that hope hasn’t calmed my nerves a bit because Storm is somewhere in there and I still don’t know if she’s alive.

“Storm!” I scream.

Finally the wall of bouncers breaks apart. Ben guides me through with a hand on my back to find Storm huddled awkwardly on the floor, her limbs folded into themselves. A pang of alarm stabs me. She looks so much like Jenny did in the car.

I dive to her side.

“Oh, Kacey!” she cries and throws herself on my shoulder. “All I could think of was Mia.”

I’m shaking. “You’re alive. You’re alive. Thank God you’re alive,” I mumble over and over as my hands grope her arms, her neck, her shoulders. No blood. No wounds.

“I’m okay, Kacey. I’m okay.” Her cheeks are red and tear-stained, her makeup smeared all over her face, but she’s smiling now.

“Yes,” I confirm, swallowing the painful ball in my throat. “You’re not going to die. You’re okay. I haven’t lost you.” I’m too close to Storm. Too close to getting hurt like I did when I lost Jenny. An avalanche of memories crushes any semblance of relief I should feel right now. Suddenly, I’m trapped in the past, with a best friend who I’d known since we were two, who shared days and nights filled with laughter and tears, anger and excitement. An acute ache blossoms in my chest as I realize they’re all the memories I hope to create with Storm too.

All the things that man just tried to steal from me.

With a hint of trepidation, Storm reaches forward and takes my hand in hers. I hadn’t breathed since I leapt over the bar. Now I let the air out of my lungs. And something snaps inside me. I don’t know how to describe it other than to say it’s like the little needle on my moral compass breaks in half.

As if a hate bomb detonates inside me.

He tried to steal my second chance from me. He needs to pay.

Fluorescent lights now shine down over the inside of Penny’s, casting an unpleasant glow over the spilled drinks, empty bottles and garbage as bouncers usher patrons out. I catch Nate’s broad shoulders as he rounds the corner toward the back exit, the guy still within his grip. My teeth crack against each other.

I’m faintly aware of Trent standing near the front entrance. He’s pointing toward the stage and arguing with a bouncer to let him pass. My attention lingers over him for a split second, but nothing really registers, driven back to the hall where that vile creature, the one who tried to rob me of my new life, left.

I’m up and running.

I’m shoving grown men out of the way as I tear down the hall after Nate. I round a corner in time to see his enormous frame pass through the back door. As I speed to catch up, my heart beat racing, blood rushing to my head, I sense my hand grab an empty glass bottle sitting on a crate. Without a distinct thought or message to my body, my hand smashes it against the wall, sending shards of glass flying.

My fist squeezes the neck tightly, imagining how sharp the broken edges must be.

How effective they must be.

When I plow through the back door, I find Storm’s attacker standing in the parking lot. Alone.

Perfect.

Without uttering a sound, I charge forward, my arm drawing behind my back as I ready my aim. The weasel turns to see me and his beady little eyes widen. Six feet, five feet, four feet … My arm is just about to catapult around to plunge the broken glass deep into his chest, to let him physically feel the level of pain I would have had to face had he been successful in his attack, when two giant trunks sweep in and lift me off the ground, securing my arms tight against me.

“No!” I scream. Now I’m kicking and screaming with everything I’m made of. My teeth clamp down on Nate’s arms and sink in, tasting copper. He grunts, but doesn’t stop, carrying me back inside the doorway. He drops me on the ground and leans forward to meet me eye to eye, his hands still securing my arms.

“Let the police take care of it, Kacey!” The rumble in his voice vibrates through me.