Page 71 of Faithful

A copycat.

Kai’s got plenty of those.

But he’s the only one.

The first half of the set is smooth sailing. Things don’t get crazy until after the thirty-minute mark when the crowd starts moving along with the wild beat and pushing forward.

Speaking of hits. “Kneel” has already topped the charts of most streaming platforms and continues to steadily climb the ladder. On Wednesday when Bodhi was grabbing me, he mentioned something about the single’s potential to reachBillboard’s number one slot.

He deserves it, I find myself thinking as I sip on my Old Fashioned while watching Kai command the audience from my spot by the railing.

I don’t know if it’s the lack of light or a lack of judgment, but I thoroughly enjoy every second of the set and don’t realize something is wrong until, during the encore, Kai abruptly stops “Bloodletting” just a few moments into the chorus.

One minute, there’s music all around me and the next, his voice cuts that music in half like a hot knife through butter.

“Security!”

Several of the house lights come on in an instant, and now that I can see the audience at my feet better, I notice four uniformed guards forcing their way in, heading to a thick cluster of people by the front rows where fans are smashed against the barricade in a way that’s dangerous.

Finn has risen from his seat behind his kit and is waving his sticks at no one in particular. He’s all drenched and looks more agitated than ever. Danny and Fingers are frozen solid in their spots. Ben shouts and gesticulates at the guards assigned to the pit. And I’m thinking probably he’s the only one not freaking out because of his military background.

“Make room, you fuckers!” Kai orders, nearing the edge of the stage and dragging the entire mic stand with him. He looks away from the crowd and somewhere in the direction of the soundboard first, then behind him. “Get the paramedics!”

That hits me hard.

Paramedics at a show is never a good sign.

The audience is shouting, their hands stretching high above their heads and forward in an attempt to reach over the narrow portion of space separating them from Kai. And now that the lights are on and I can actually see what’s happening on the floor, my gut is in knots.

It’s him against over a thousand people if that little barrier doesn’t hold.

“Kai! I love you!” someone shrieks down below.

There’s an object thrown into the air.

More bodies press in from the back.

And I can see it–the disaster unveiling–with my own eyes before it even happens. It’s like the butterfly effect. It starts at a point nowhere near Kai, but it rolls through the sweaty, adrenaline-charged crowd in a massive wave, slamming into the circle of guards trying to extract the person who needs medical help first, then hitting the front rows and finally the barricade.

There’s a noise. Not particularly loud since the roar of the crowd and the thunder of their feet that follow next are much louder.

I watch in horror as the mass of human bodies step on each other. My heart lurches inside my rib cage.

“Fucking hell,” someone off to the side mutters.

A ripple of worried voices rushes across the balcony. More security guards spill in from the main floor, but it’s too late.

The crowd has gone over the barricade that’s been knocked down. At least a dozen or more fans are up on the stage, and I can’t see Kai. It doesn’t help that the stupid fog is everywhere.

“Fuck,” I hear myself cursing as I set my glass on the nearest table and dart toward the stairs, yanking my phone out of my pocket to call Bodhi.

Kai forwarded me his number on Monday just in case, but I never thought I’d have to use it. The guy is a prick.

Of course, he doesn’t pick up.

Mad panic seizes me by the time I get to the floor. Heart pounding, I rip past the raging crowd that’s shoving against the walls, the fixtures, the balustrades, the bar, and against each other.

Security is all over the place. There’s the crackle of walkie-talkies too and several uniformed bodies mingle in my peripheral vision as I near one of the side doors leading backstage. The cops have arrived. Fucking wonderful.

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