Page 41 of Cage the Storm
Instead, there’s warmth. A rough mattress beneath me, the scent of antiseptic lingering in the air.
I force my eyes open, the world blurring before it comes into focus. The room’s dim, unfamiliar. Not a hospital. Not the alley.
A figure leans against the wall, arms crossed, watching me with a calculating gaze. The same one who dragged me out, pulled me from the brink.
“You’re alive,” he says, casual, like my survival was optional.
I blink, my throat raw. “Where?—”
“Safe house,” he interrupts. “You were bleeding out, figured I’d do you a solid.”
I study him, the way he speaks, like this is just another job, another moment in a long line of them.
“Who the hell are you?” I manage, my voice hoarse.
He smirks, finally pushing off the wall. “Mateo.”
The name barely registers, because I’m still trying to piece together why a stranger threw himself into my disaster. Why am I still alive?
Mateo steps forward, setting a water bottle on the nightstand beside me. “Rest up, kid. You’re gonna need it.”
I don’t know why he saved my life. I should have been just another casualty of the world I was born into. But one thing is certain, I’ll never forget this man or what he risked for a stranger like me.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
LUNA
My handsclench and unclench as I watch him struggle. The nightmares won’t let him go.
Nico’s body shakes, and his breath is uneven. His face twists in a silent battle against whatever torment is pulling him under. Every few minutes, he mutters something, barely understandable, but the desperation in his voice is unmistakable.
I swallow hard, forcing myself to stay still even though every instinct tells me to do something. I glance toward the doctor; he’s watching Nico closely as the fever holds him hostage.
“Is this normal?” My voice is shaky, and I force myself not to break down in front of everyone.
The doctor fiddles with the screen, then answers. “For what’s happening to him? Yes, his body’s just trying to manage all the stress.” But he massages the back of his neck. He’s uneasy. “If the fever doesn’t break soon, we might have to change our plan. And quick.” My mind’s already racing, running through possibilities, through options.
Do I call in another team? A specialist? Someone with more resources? Would Nico even allow that if he were awake?
I grip the side of the chair, torn between what’s right and wrong. He’ll pull through. He has to, I try to convince myself. But watching him fight demons I can’t reach makes that belief harder to hold onto.
I’m relieved when I see Mateo step inside. His presence is a comfort to me because he genuinely cares about Nico. It’s not out of obligation either; it’s because he matters to him.
He looks at me, then back at Nico. “No change?”
I shake my head. “He’s burning up. Fighting something in his head—memories, maybe. Nightmares. I don’t know.”
He steps closer to Nico’s bedside, his gaze sweeping over him like he’s searching for something the doctors missed.
“I’ve been thinking. Maybe we should call in another specialist. Someone with more experience overseeing this kind of trauma.”
Mateo’s stare matches my own. “You think they could be doing more?”
I bite my lip, considering. “I don’t know. They say he’ll pull through, but watching him like this, I don’t want to take any chances.”
“If you think we need to call in someone else, say the word. I’ll take care of it.”
The relief should be immediate, but it isn’t. Because the truth is, I don’t know if bringing in someone else will change anything. I know I can’t just stand here and do nothing.
