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The dark-haired woman sat, eyes widening before she drew a blanket over her exposed body. The blonde turned, mouth agape and eyes wide.
Not Emma.
The relief that skated through his body was like ice water on a hot day.
“She went to the bathroom a while ago,” Callie answered, running her hands through her hair.
Link’s attention darted to the closed door to his left. He tried the handle, but it was locked. “Emma?”
No answer.
“Emma, open the door.” He jiggled the handle.
She wasn’t answering, at least not loud enough that he could hear over the music. Worry cinched his gut. Had she done some of the drugs? Was she in danger?
“If you don’t open this door, I’m gonna break it down!” Link shouted.
Nicky’s hand landed on his shoulder. “Dude, calm down. I guess she doesn’t want to talk to you.”
Link roared, backing up to ram the door, ignoring Nicky. Something was wrong. He ran, jamming his shoulder against the door, once, twice. Wood splintered on the marble floor as pain radiated through his arm. But the sight that met his eyes stole his breath, making his heart stutter. His ears rang as fear like he’d never known crashed over him, pulling him under.
“Oh, fuck!” Nicky shouted, wrenching him out of his shock.
Link didn’t think. He moved. There was so much blood and broken glass. Crimson stained her arms, stomach, and lap, pooling under her limp form curled on the cold ground.
He lifted her into his arms, seeking out the source of her injuries. Red slashes in all directions crisscrossed her wrists and up her forearms. He laid her back down gently to pull off his T-shirt before ripping it. “Call an ambulance!”
“On the way,” Nicky said, dropping next to him.
The music cut off as the rest of Emma’s bandmates crowded in the small room. Someone gasped.
“Is she breathing?” Nicky asked, checking her pulse for himself. His worried gaze met Link’s, his mouth forming a grim line. “It’s there, but it’s faint.”
“Put pressure on the wounds,” Link directed, tearing strips from his shirt.
“Oh my God!” Callie screamed.
“Get these people out of here!” Asher yelled at her.
Link held the strip to one of her arms. Nicky moved, so he could tie it on tightly. They did the same with her other arm.
Link picked her up, his heart racing, adrenaline coursing through his body. “Hold on, little bird. Just fucking hold on.” He kissed her cheek, cool to the touch. Her pale skin was now grey and sickly.
How could he not see she was hurting so much? Was this because of him? He never got to tell her how much he loved her. Regrets and fear twisted and tumbled inside with a hurricane of emotions as he carried the woman he loved towards the elevator, past a few lagging partygoers.
It opened, and four paramedics climbed out with a gurney.
“What happened?” one of them asked.
He laid her down, not wanting to let her go. What if this was the last time he got to hold her? “Her wrists are cut.” The words choked out of him. Emma tried to kill herself. He backed away, knowing he had to move if he wanted her to have a fighting chance.
“Has she taken any drugs or medications?” The paramedic looked up at him as two others attended to Emma’s seemingly lifeless body.
“I don’t know.” He turned to Nicky.
“She doesn’t do drugs. She had a lot of vodka though.”
Questions drowned into background noise as one of the machines started to beep.
