Page 90 of Cage the Storm
Nico has to be alive. If he wasn’t, I’d feel it. Wouldn’t I?
I touch the ring on my finger, Nico’s grandmother’s. The metal bites into my skin, now that I’m pregnant. If he’s dead, I’ll wear his vengeance like a crown. If he’s alive, I’ll carve my love into his enemies’ bones.
But being in limbo is a worse fate than being tortured in hell by the devil himself.
My eyelids start to burn, but I won’t give in. I step away from the window and sit on the edge of the bed. Closing my eyes for just a second. The dream crashes in, fast and blinding.
Nico’s hands frame my face, calloused and warm. “Look at you,” he says, grinning that wolf’s grin. “Queen of the Caputo famiglia.”
We stand in the foyer of a new mansion—marble floors, vaulted ceilings, sunlight pooling like liquid gold. His thumb brushes soot from my cheek. “This one’s fireproof,” he jokes, but his gaze drifts to the staircase. On the nursery door at the top.
Our daughter’s laughter spills down the hall. She has his smile, my stubborn chin. Nico lifts her high, her tiny fists grabbing at his tie. “You’re gonna ruin me, piccolina,” he growls, but he’s already melting, already soft in ways only she and I ever see.
Later, in bed, his lips trace the scar on my shoulder. “They’re all dead,” he murmurs. “Every last one who touched you.”
I thread my fingers through his hair. “And if they come back?”
His laugh vibrates against my skin. “Then we’ll burn them again.”
The dream morphs. We’re walking into a gala, my gown is blood red, and his suit is as black as night. The room parts and the whispers follow. D’Angelo’s. The phoenix and his flame. He tucks me against his side, his grip possessive. “Smile, mi amore,” he whispers. “They’re all watching.”
I bare my teeth, and the crowd flinches.
I jolt awake, the dream unraveling like smoke. The bright sun glows through the dirty windows.
My mother hovers nearby, holding a steaming mug. “You should eat,” she says.
I ignore her.
Caterina rises, tugging on her dress and reminding me that we all desperately need clean clothes. “We need to make a plan just in case Nico doesn’t return.” Her tone is clipped, but her knuckles whiten on the chair. She’s scared.
The soldiers outside are arguing now, voices low and urgent. My pulse thunders. The squeal of tires? Engines?
A door slams.
CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
NICOLAI
I standin the doorway with blood on my hands and stubble along my jaw. My broken fingers throb, every cut screams, every inhale hurts like hell, but none of it matters. Not when she’s here.
Luna.
Her eyes lock onto mine, wide and disbelieving, and the world fucking stops. No more gunfire, no more smoke, just her. I move before I can think, crossing the room in three strides. My hands shake, caked with blood, and I’m afraid to touch her. Not with the same hands that killed her father.
“Luna.” Her name rips free of my chest, like a prayer.
She crashes into me, and I bite back a groan when her weight grinds into my ribs. It doesn’t matter. I’d let the crowbar hit me a hundred times if it meant holding her like this. My arms lock around her, tighter than they should. Her heartbeat syncs with mine. A reminder that we’re both still breathing.
“You’re hurt and exhausted,” she whispers.
“You should see the other guys.” She pulls back, thumbs grazing my jaw. While her gaze scrutinizes every inch of me.
“You look like hell.” I flash her a smirk.
“No doubt, but I’m still standing.”
There’s a buzz in the room ever since I walked in. A million questions hitting me all at once, but I only see her. When I don’t answer a damn one, they walk away, boots scuffing the floor, and a few curses follow. They can wait; let us have our moment.
