Page 63 of Sebastian

The coin pressed into my palm, somehow still cool despite how much I’d been handling it.

“I should be asking you that. At this point, people have tried to kill you as many times as they’ve tried to kill me. How are you doing?”

My voice cracked like old paint—a combined symptom of smoke inhalation and having a breathing tube shoved down my throat during surgery—but Newt still smiled like it was the best sound he ever heard.

“I’m alive.” He shrugged as he sat on the edge of my bed. “And mostly uninjured. So, all in all, I can’t complain.”

He checked over my leg, making sure it was still hanging properly in its traction.

I’d seen the x-rays. While I’d been unconscious, doctors had opened up my leg and installed a bunch of pins to try and piece the limb back together. I couldn’t remember how many pins, exactly, but the image made it look like my leg was more metal than bone.

I flipped the coin.

Tails: I’d never walk again.

“You should complain.”

Newt froze in the middle of reading through my medical chart for the dozenth time.

“What?”

“You should complain. You should be furious at me for getting you involved in this. You shouldn’t be here. If you left, then maybe they wouldn’t—”

A finger pressed against my lips, silencing me. Newt snatched the coin from my hand, which I had been nervously flipping.

“Don’t finish that sentence. You’re about to suggest that we break up because it’ll be safer for me, aren’t you? I am furious. At this whole situation. Of course I am. But the people I’m mad at are the ones trying to kill us. Not you.”

I tried to argue, but Newt’s finger pressed firmer against my lips.

“Let me ask you this. If we claim to end our relationship and no longer have anything to do with each other, do you really think this ‘Mafia Boss’ guy will just believe that? He’ll just leave me alone because you said so?”

The finger disappeared, but before I could answer, I was startled by the sound of laughter. At some point during our conversation, Damien had woken up, and now sat with an amused grin on his face, chuckling.

“Kid’s got a point, Sebastian. You’re a self-sacrificing idiot for no reason.”

I grumbled but couldn’t argue.

Newt ran a hand over my injured leg. His fingers were so light they barely made contact.

“Well, not always for nothing. Some of your sacrifices are very... noble. But in this case, no. I’m safer with you than apart from you. And it’s where I want to be anyway. So no more suggesting that I leave. All right?”

“All right,” I relented. There was no point arguing when Newt and Damien were both against me. I could barely hope to win an argument against one of them. Together they were an unstoppable force.

It would have been a perfect moment to kiss Newt. A lovely blush dusted over his cheeks, making his freckles stand out. However, I could barely raise my head off the pillows. The doctors had me pumped full of so many drugs, I felt nothing. I suppose I should have been grateful. Based on the extent of my injuries, I’d be in a lot of pain without the assistance of medication, but it also made me fuzzy in the head. My body refused to cooperate.

Instead, I settled for squeezing Newt’s hand. It didn’t require much movement, and based on the smile on Newt’s face, he understood the message.

Even if I wished he could have stayed out of all this danger, I was also glad he was staying with me.

Our moment was interrupted when the door opened and Gabe stepped into the room, accompanied by a man I’d never seen. The man was definitely a Fed. Every person who worked for the FBI carried themselves with a certain confident set to their shoulders, and a stiffness to their movements, like they were always under scrutiny.

Damien stood from his chair, brushing out the wrinkles on his clothes and trying to smooth his beard into place.

“Director Thornton. What are you doing here, sir?”

While I didn’t recognize the face, the name was familiar.

Willard Thornton. The director of the FBI.

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