My mind starts to panic at the millions of possible outcomes, and seconds later, Vince’s body starts to shake.
“Fuck! Turn him on his side,” Nico tells me as Emerson helps. I’m frozen, again. Yet another time that the panic takes over my body and I don’t do anything.
I hate myself, and tears flood my eyes as the ambulance pulls up. The EMTs hop out, stick Vince with something, and a few seconds later, his body stops seizing.
They strap him onto the gurney in record time, and Emerson hops into the ambulance with him as Nico finds out where they’re headed.
“Princess? Come back to me. Vince is going to be okay. He’s in good hands. They're taking him to the hospital, but Vince would kill me if I didn't take you somewhere safe—”
“Nico, take me to the fucking hospital right now, or I’ll get there myself!” I yell through my tears.
He takes one look at me and nods as he shoves everyone else out of the way before the two of us are finally in the car. There’s no doubt thatNico is breaking a few too many traffic laws, but I can't find it in myself to care.
Because as soon as my phone dings in my pocket, I know with complete certainty that it’s my fault.
Chaptertwenty-nine
— PEACE BY TAYLOR SWIFT
As I sit besideVince in his room, Nico offers me some food, but I decline, just like I have the past ten times he offered.
I can't find it in myself to eat, not when Vince is in this hospital bed because of me.
The doctors told us that whatever was thrown at him was laced with fentanyl—a fuck ton of it. Enough of it must've been inhaled through his nose, and that caused the seizures.
They told us if we had gotten here minutes later, Vince might have died.
He might’ve died, and his death would have been on my hands.
“Princess, Vince will kill me if he finds out you haven't eaten. It’s been hours. Just take something, please.”
“I’m fine, Nico.”
He sits down on the armrest of my chair as I continue to stare at Vince. I’ve never seen him so vulnerable before, and tonight will forever be ingrained in my mind.
Vince is here because of me.
He’s hurt, and this is all my fault.
Ralph is trying and succeeding at taking out everyone I love.
It’s all my fault.
“Bree, stop beating yourself up. We don’t know what happened yet. I’m downloading the footage from the ballroom. I’ll have it soon, and we’ll—”
“It’s my fucking fault, Nico. How am I not supposed to beat myself up?” I say as I get out of the chair, wanting to shrink into the walls of the hospital.
“For starters, Vince knows the risks. He chose to come back and do his job, which is to protect you. And we don't know for certain that Ralph had anything to do with this.”
I can only manage a scoff at him as I throw my phone in his face. “Read that and then tell me it’s not my fucking fault, Nico.”
His face scans the text I got earlier, and I see his eyes narrow at my screen as he finishes it. “Fucking hell.”
“He wasn't even aiming at me. He was going for Vince because I made him a target! I was the one who did this to him, Nico! Even if I didn't throw the fucking fentanyl at his face, I’m sure as hell at fault!”
“Bree, don’t do that. Don’t blame yourself for this.”
“He was protecting me, Nico! He was ahead of me, and Ralph knew that, and he almost died! Vince almost died because of me,” I say as I collapse, my head between my hands. “I know it’s his job, and I know Vince would kill me for feeling like this, but I can't help it.”