Page 99 of Cage the Storm
I nearly break his jaw, but then I realize he’s only doing his job.
Instead, I end up in the waiting room, pacing back and forth. Mateo’s watching me, afraid I’ll lose my shit, and I don’t blame him. When I grab a chair and shove it against the wall, he doesn’t flinch. Just sighs and disappears for a while, returning with a coffee I don’t drink.
I spend the next few hours pacing again and count the scuff marks on the floor that are surely there because of me.
Antonio updates me periodically, and I shake my head like I’m listening. But I don’t understand a damn word.
Hours pass by, and I don’t remember sitting down, but my elbows are on my knees with my fingers curled into fists.
“Nico.” Mateo’s voice is quiet. “They’re moving her to recovery.”
She’s alive.
I don’t wait. I shove past Mateo, past the nurses, past anyone stupid enough to get in my way.
Her hair’s tangled and damp, clinging to her skin like she’s been fighting in her sleep. As I sit beside her bed, I grab the cloth they left and gently wipe her face. My hands are shaking as I try to fix her hair.
She’d call me weak if she could see me now.
Hours pass, and still nothing.
Antonio’s voice plays on a loop in my head. “The blood loss was extensive. She might not wake up for days. And if oxygen was cut off too long…”
I shut it down before he can finish. I can’t hear the rest. Not yet.
Her wedding band sparkles under the fluorescents, reminding me of what she once told me. “Love is a cage, Nico.” Right now, I’d burn down the fucking world to keep her safe in one.
Just before sunrise, she slowly opens her eyes.
I blink; certain it’s just exhaustion playing tricks. But I look again. She’s awake. Watching me.
I lean in, our heads pressed together, because I need the connection more than air.
“Nico?” Her voice trembles. I’d rather she be screaming at me than sound so fragile. My grip tightens on the bed rail. I want to break something. But all I can do is hold on.
“You almost died.”
Her cracked lips curl slightly. “Hell wouldn’t want me.”
“Don’t.” I press my lips to her neck, feeling the faint pulse against my lips. “Don’t joke.”
She turns her head, scanning the room. “The baby?”
“He’s in the nursery.” My thumb brushes her knuckles. “You don’t get to see him until you’re out of the woods.”
She tries to sit up, fails. Machines protest. I push her down gently, hating the dampness in my eyes. “Stay still. For me,moglie. Please.”
A smile tugs at her lips. “Control freak.”
“Yes.” My voice drops to a whisper. “So live. Or I’ll gut every saint in heaven to drag you back to me.”
Her fingers graze my jaw. Cold. Too cold.
“Missed you... bossing me.”
I press her hand to my chest, anchoring both of us to the rhythm of my heart.
“I wasn’t scared.”
