Page 43 of Cage the Storm
The realization tightens my chest since I’ve spent years avoiding attachments, keeping my world carefully controlled, keeping people at arm’s length. Playing my part just to survive.
But now, here I am. Watching Nico fight for his life. And how I spent so long trying not to love him. Now I don’t know how to lose him.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
NICOLAI
It feelslike I’ve been swimming against the tide for too long, and when I finally blink my eyes open, the dim light hanging from the ceiling stings. It takes a second longer for my mind to catch up with my body, for everything to sink in.
I’m alive.
My throat’s dry, like I haven’t spoken in days, and I barely have the strength to move, let alone push myself upright. I turn slightly, and the exhaustion presses down hard. I’m weak and I fucking hate it.
Letting out a slow breath, I concentrate on the here and now. I need time to regain my strength and figure out what the hell comes next.
I adjust my position, and there she is—Luna, asleep with her head on the mattress, arms tucked beneath her. She must’ve stayed up watching over me.La mia protettrice. My protector.
A strand of hair has fallen across her face. I brush my fingers lightly against her skin as I tuck the loose strand behind her ear. Then I trace the soft curve of her cheek with a touch so faint she doesn’t wake.
What is it about this woman that has me so distracted? On the one hand, we want to kill each other, and then she pulls something like this and stays by my side.
I hate that I’m weak, still tethered to this damn bed. But the nightmares are over. It’s just a matter of time before my strength returns.
Exhaustion clings to her even while she’s sleeping. It makes me wonder how long she’s been here, watching over me. Refusing to leave. And the thought hits me square in the chest, taking root.
I adjust my arm, but even the slightest movement sends a dull ache through my side. I grit my teeth, forcing my breathing to stay even.
I’m so thirsty.
I reach for the bottle on the nightstand, but my hand trembles. It nearly slips through my fingers, and the effort alone makes my chest tighten. I’m too tired for this—too tired to pretend I’m not falling apart.
Then a hand gently wraps around mine, stopping the bottle from tilting too far. I glance up, and Luna’s eyes meet mine. She’s still sleepy, but focused. “Let me help.”
I could insist I’ve got it, but she knows better.
She leans forward, keeping one hand stable while she guides the bottle to my lips. The water cools my throat, and when I finish, she sets it back on the nightstand. I watch her, and for a moment, we don’t breathe.
“How do you feel?” It’s a loaded question.
I barely manage to get the words out, but they don’t sound convincing. “I’m fine.”
She raises a brow, unimpressed. “You can barely sit up without looking like you’re about to collapse.”
“Still breathing, aren’t I?” I try smiling, but it probably looks like a grimace.
“That’s all you have to say. You nearly died, and you think you can just smirk your way through it?” Her glare cuts right through me.
Just minutes ago, I thought she cared, now I’m so fucking angry I grip the IV tubing, my fingers shaking, ready to rip it free. It’s pointless, but I need to do something. Anything. Because lying here, helpless, is worse than the fucking pain. Worse than whatever damage I might cause. At least that would be my choice. Not someone else’s.
“Nico, stop!” Luna’s voice cuts through my brain fog, and before I can react, her hand grabs my wrist.
My jaw clenches, and I refuse to back down. “I don’t need this!”
“You do.” Her grip tightens, afraid to let go. “You’re recovering. Yanking out your IV isn’t going to prove anything except that you have poor judgment.”
The doctor rushes in, irritation lining his face as he takes one look at the situation. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Leaving,” I mutter, but saying it out loud sounds foolish.
