"Dressing room," Connor mutters into the intercom, confirming to Mo and Jax that Luna's safely back.
Luna slumps onto a couch, resting her arms along the back, pulling in deep breaths. "That was crazy," she says. "Fucking crazy."
"You did good," Connor says reassuringly.
I clear my throat. "It was awesome. The perfect way to start a tour."
"It'll be all over the news sites tomorrow," Asher says.
"And I'll have to do it all over again tomorrow." Luna runs a hand over her face, the body language of a person who feels worn down. But this is night one. There's a whole tour to finish. She's going to be doing this show so many times that we'll all know the words and dance moves by the time we're heading home.
With a huff, she heads over to the chair where her bag rests, pulling out a bottle of water. She needs to keep those vocal cords nice and wet. "What the fuck?" Bending over, she pulls the corner of her bag to open it wider, gazing inside. "What the fuck is that?"
Asher's there in a flash, nudging her behind him, so that he can investigate the bag. "Fuck," he growls. Pulling out plastic gloves from his pocket, he reaches in to find whatever has Luna spooked. A pair of white panties has been slashed up and splattered with scarlet. Attached is a note but I'm not close enough to read what it says.
"WHAT IS IT?" Luna shouts.
"Nothing," Asher says, turning his back to her so she can't see the full extent of what he's dealing with. I can see he wants to shove it in his pocket, but he knows that would destroy evidence.
"Luna, come over here," I say, reaching out for her elbow.
"Don't fucking touch me," she yells. "Don't try and hide this shit from me…to treat me like I’m a child who can't deal with the world. I've dealt with bigger and uglier shit than this when I was ten years old, so can you just show me?"
Asher's eyes seek out Connor's. There's a tense moment when both men try to debate what's best to do with just eye contact. In the end, Connor nods and Asher turns, holding the panties out to Luna. "Don't touch anything," he says. "We need to give this to the police as clean as possible."
Luna squints trying to read the scrawled words. "I would tear you up so you wouldn't be able to walk for a month." Her voice is so flat that it hurts my heart.
"Fuck," I mutter under my breath, just as Luna turns to look at me. Her eyes are glassy and unfocused. I'm expecting her to rage again, to tell us what a fucking asshole the man is who's done this, but she doesn't. Her hand raises and hovers over her chest and then her knees seem to go out from under her. I'm close enough to catch her before she falls, pulling her against me tightly. "Luna!" I tip her face up to mine and her eyes roll and then close.
"Get her onto the couch," Connor says as I scoop her into my arms and carry her to lay her down. Chestnut hair fans across the dark leather and Luna's lips part as her head lolls.
One minute, she's the strongest one in the room and then next she's passing out.
It can't be a coincidence. As strenuous as her performance was, she's practiced enough to deal with that. No, it's not dancing that's the problem, it's knowing the truth of what's out there and getting closer.
Too fucking close.
"Luna…" I pat her face gently then fan my hand back and forth, trying to create a cooling breeze that might rouse her. Asher and Connor crowd behind me.
"Undo her bra," Asher says. "She needs to be able to breathe without the fucking underwire constricting her chest.”
He's right but that doesn't make this feel any less wrong. She's fucking out of it and I'm fumbling her out of her underwear. If she wakes up while I'm doing it, she's going to think the worst for sure.
But she doesn't.
"Get me a wet cloth," I shout. "And a glass of water for when she comes around. And get that shit out of here."
Asher heads to the doorway, calling for Elijah, Mo, and Jax. Connor is at the sink, wetting a towel. When he returns, I press it gently to Luna's forehead and then dab it around her neck and over the top of her breasts.
A little gasp leaves her lips and then her eyes flutter open, the green of her irises so vivid it's like looking into a priceless jewel. "What…"
Luna goes to sit up, but I rest my hand on her shoulder. "You passed out, sweetie. Just rest for a moment so it doesn't happen again."
"Shit." Her hand flies to her head as she groans.
"Are you in pain?" Giving me a closed-eyed nod, she draws her feet up until her knees are bent at right angles.
"It felt like a flash," she says, “but it's getting better.”
"You gave us a scare," Connor says, taking a seat at the end of the couch. "We should get a medic to check you out."
Luna puts her hand up, palm facing in his direction. "No medic. I'm fine. I just need a minute."
"We shouldn't take any chances," Connor urges.
"Maybe you should have thought of that before you let a fucking freak rifle through my stuff and defile my underwear.”
Connor flinches backward, Luna's words cutting close, but instead of reacting angrily to her assertions, he seems to deflate. "You're right. I'm sorry. I thought we had it covered by keeping track of who was around the stage area. Anyone back here has to have been checked in and given a pass. But it won't happen again. From tomorrow, one of us will remain stationed at the door for security.
"You think they'll come back tomorrow?" The smallness of Luna's voice is heart-breaking. For all her raging and sharp words, she's actually so vulnerable and soft. It's like she holds a toughened forcefield around herself for as long as she can, but once it crumbles, she has nothing to shield her from the world.
Nothing except us.
Connor rests his hand on Luna's boot; a gesture that should feel too familiar but somehow doesn't under the circumstances. "There's a reason why Asher didn't want you to see what was there. It's our job to keep you safe and our job to deal with whatever is a threat. Your job is to perform and keep your fans happy. To do that, you don't need to be thinking about this stuff…just forget it all, okay? And trust us. We won't let anything bad happen to you."
Luna's lids lower and she exhales long and low as if the breath she's expelling can carry with it all the stress she's holding inside.
I do the exact same thing when I'm under pressure.
When her eyes open, they flick from Connor, to me, to Elijah who's standing behind me.
"No medic," she says softly. "And from now on, I'll leave you to deal with everything."
"Deal," I say, before Connor has a chance to disagree. If there's one thing that I'm sure of, it’s that Luna needs to know she can trust us, and part of that is us having some faith in the fact that she knows what's good for her.
We're all exhausted by the time we get back to the hotel and Luna disappears to shower off the exertion of the day. By the time we're ready to eat, it's late. Luna's ravenous though, and she polishes off a huge bowl of a delicious German stew with a name that I can't pronounce. I have the same, but the others all go for different options. Conversation is subdued and even Jax can't raise much more than a fleeting smile from the group.