Page 79 of Cage the Storm
My grip tightens around the phone in my hand. No calls from Bria. Again.
Luna leans against the wall with a vacant stare on her face, like she’s replaying the doctor’s words over and over. Baby’s fine. Just breathe.
I insisted that Luna be treated first, so Antonio did a full exam. He was afraid of a uterine rupture, but thank fuck the wound wasn’t too deep. She was given antibiotics just in case, and they carefully closed and dressed the wound. Luna’s supposed to get some rest, but sleep won’t come. Her mind refuses to surrender.
Glancing down at my phone, I swipe my thumb across the screen, but there’s nothing. No new messages. No missed calls. Fuck!
Behind me, my mother’s heels snap against the floor, a constant, clicking rhythm that grates on my every nerve.
“We should’ve never left the villa,” she mutters. “I told you the D’Angelos were vipers, Nicolai. Vipers.”
“The villa’s gone. Now sit before you drive me insane with all that pacing.” I fume, refusing to look at her.
She spins, furious. “Sit?” Her voice bristles. “Your sister is God-knows-where, and you’re?—”
“Enough.” The word cuts through the room, sharper than the needle digging into my skin. I lift my eyes, fury in my gaze. “You think I don’t know? That I’m not concerned?”
The medic flinches but keeps stitching.
Luna pushes off the wall, arms tight across her chest. “Bria’s smart. She’ll find a way out.”
My grip tightens around the phone, but when I look at Luna, something eases, just a fraction. “She’s seventeen, Luna. They’ll use her as a?—”
“Don’t.” She steps closer, her hand hovering over mine. “We’ll get her back. But you’re no good to her if you’re dead.”
I study her face, reading the fear she’s desperately trying to hide. “I’m fine.”
“Bullshit.” She nods to the medic. “Tell him.” The medic clears his throat.
“Two broken ribs, three broken fingers, Grade Two concussion, bruising and lacerations on your back, blood loss requiring transfusion, and?—”
“Stop talking!” I grab the scalpel from the tray. “Out.”
He retreats without another word. My mother follows, muttering prayers to saints who’ve never listened.
And then it’s just us.
Luna.
I grip her hips, pulling her between my knees, pressing my forehead against her sternum. Her warmth. Her breath. The continual drum of her heartbeat.
They have my sister.
Her fingers thread through my hair. Matted, damp, and bloody. “We’ll burn their world down. Together.”
I exhale, the sound raw. “I need you safe. Both of you.”
Her grip tightens. “Safe?” She tilts my chin up, forcing my gaze to hers. “I want them all dead, and you don’t get to bench me now.”
A smile tugs at my lips. “Stubborn.”
“Learned from the best.”
The door bursts open, and Mateo strides in with rage burning in his eyes.
He tosses a burner phone onto the table. “I traced Bria’s last ping. Abandoned church on Via Marconi. It’s heavily guarded.”
I stand too fast. Wrong move. The room tilts, my pulse hammering in my skull.
