Page 39 of Cage the Storm
I don’t remember drifting off, but my eyes flutter open at the sound of my name. Rough, barely more than a whisper.
“Luna.”
I blink, my pulse kicking up as I turn toward him. Nico’s eyes are open, clouded with exhaustion, but focused on me.
For a moment, neither of us speaks. He takes me in, and that’s when I realize he didn’t expect me to stay.
I swallow, pushing myself upright. “You need to rest.”
His voice is quiet, almost disbelieving. “You stayed.”
“Of course I did.”
There’s something unspoken between us, like a quiet understanding. He watches me before his eyes flutter closed again.
And as I settle back against the cot, I realize—this is the first time I’ve seen him let his guard down.
The soft murmurs pull me from sleep, quiet but urgent. The cellar’s dim light blurs around me as I blink, trying to focus.
Then I hear the clipped words and the shuffle of movement, the constant beeping of monitors tracking every change in Nico’s condition.
I sit up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, and look at him. The med team crowds around his bed, checking machines, adjusting IV lines, and regulating his tubes. They move fast, but they’re trying not to show it.
Something’s wrong.
I push the blanket off, standing, my pulse hammering as I step closer. “What’s going on?”
Antonio looks up, his expression not reassuring. “He’s stable, but his body’s reacting to the trauma. Fever’s creeping in. We expected it, but we’ll need to watch him closely.”
Fever.
I inhale slowly, refusing to let the unease take hold. “Is he conscious?”
Antonio glances down. “In and out.”
I follow his gaze, watching as Nico stirs, his brows furrowing. He lurches like he’s trying to outrun a memory that won’t let go.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
NICOLAI
Heat pulsesbeneath my skin and crawls up my spine. The world distorts, blurring at the edges until I can’t tell where I end, and the fever begins.
Then, the gunfire comes.
Relentless and unforgiving. I see the warehouse, the burst of a muzzle flashing in the dark, and I feel it again: that searing pain ripping through my side.
I fight to move, but my body won’t listen.
Figures appear, their faces familiar, yet twisted. Carlo stands untouched, smirking like he’s been waiting. “You always thought you were untouchable,” he murmurs, his voice slithering through the smoke.“Guess not.”
Then blood.
Too much blood.
I press my hand to my side, but it keeps slipping through my fingers, thick and endless. The pain’s unbearable, worse than before.
And then. Another voice. Softer. Closer. Cutting through the nightmare and my confusion.
