Page 42 of Cage the Storm
Antonio clears his throat and moves toward us. “You don’t need another team.” His tone is calm, but it’s laced with a sarcastic undertone. “I’m the best there is, and I get why staying quiet matters.”
There’s no hesitation in his gaze, or any reason to doubt him. “You’re sure?”
“Positive. Anyone else will stir up trouble and ask too many questions. You need someone who is discreet and knows how to oversee this quietly. That’s me.”
Mateo scrutinizes him, then admits, “He’s right.”
Every instinct tells me to do more, to exhaust every possibility, but I know that exposure is a risk we can’t afford.
I glance back at Nico, the fever still holding him in its grip. “Then do whatever it takes.”
Antonio moves quickly, snapping on fresh gloves as he turns back to Nico. His movements are precise.
“We’re switching his antibiotic,” he says. “His body isn’t responding the way I’d like. We’ll clean the wound again, make sure there’s no underlying infection, then start the new course.”
I watch him carefully unwrap the bandages, revealing the injury beneath. The sight of it. The deep, angry wound, the swelling around the edges. It makes something tighten in my chest.
Mateo watches, and I see the hint of concern in his gaze.
The doctor doesn’t waste time. He cleans the wound thoroughly before applying a fresh dressing. “This should help stabilize him,” he mutters, more to himself than to anyone else. “We’ll check his response to the new medication. If it works, the fever should break soon.”
I inhale slowly, trying to catch my breath. “And if it doesn’t?”
Antonio meets my gaze. “Then we reassess.” I don’t like uncertainty. But I need to be patient and let the new medication do its job.
Watching Nico suffer through it, helpless, caught in nightmares, has worn me out. I’m exhausted, but I refuse to leave him.
Footsteps echo down the hall. Mateo. He hasn’t left. “I hate to bother you, but the women are getting restless with his presence down here. They need an update,” he says.
“I know. I just... I don’t think I can do it this minute.”
Being vulnerable is a curse I can’t afford, but I trust Mateo, and he doesn’t push.
“I’ll take care of it,” he says. “Keep it simple, keep them calm.”
“Just make sure they know he’s stable. No unnecessary details.”
“You got it.”
I press my fingers to my lips, still feeling the ghost of him there. I stare down at my husband, pale and still fighting like hell, and something inside me splits wide open.
I didn’t mean for this to happen.
There were days I thought about ending him. At night, I convinced myself I could.
But now?
Now I’m sitting here, praying he makes it through the night.
Somewhere between the arguments and the silence, the conflict and the fire, I fell for him.
Hard.
And now, watching him like this, I can’t pretend anymore.
I love him.
God help me, I love him.
