Page 44 of Cage the Storm
Antonio shakes his head as he checks my vitals. “You’re barely stable. If you think I’m clearing you to get up and play kingpin again, you’ve lost your damn mind.”
Luna crosses her arms, livid. “I already told him that.”
Doc finishes his quick assessment, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets. “Since you’re awake and eager to rip out your IV, let me fill you in on what exactly you’ve been fighting.”
I don’t respond—just watch him, waiting.
“The bullet nicked your spleen,” he continues, voice matter-of-fact. “Not enough to require removal, but enough to cause significant internal bleeding. You lost too much blood, and with all the shock on top of it, your body shut down to keep you alive. Then, the fever hit, high and relentless. You weren’t respondingto the medication at first, and for a while, we weren’t sure your body would fight back.”
“How close was it?”
“You were lucky. If we hadn’t stabilized you fast enough, your body would’ve shut down entirely.”
Blowing out a pent-up breath, I dip my chin in acknowledgement.
Lucky.
I’ve heard that word too many times to count in my lifetime.
“The fever came from the infection we were fighting.” He motions towards the IV. “Thankfully, the new course did its job. The fever broke, and your vitals are improving. But you’re still weak. You’re not ready to be tearing out tubes and storming out of here.”
She’s loving that someone else is putting me in my place for once.
I glance at the IV. The slow drip of fluids and blood keeping me alive. Every instinct screams to rip it out, take back control. But the doctor’s right.
“Fine,” I mutter, letting my head sink back against the pillow. “But it won’t be for long.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
LUNA
No more nightmaresare yanking him awake. Just the slow and steady rhythm of his breathing. The tightness in my chest eases, and for once, I let myself relax.
He’s going to be okay.
That thought alone should be enough to soothe me, but knowing what waits for him on the outside keeps me alert. Exhaustion clings to me just as stubbornly, reminding me that I’ve barely slept, barely taken a moment for myself since this all began.
I push myself to my feet, rolling my shoulders to work out the stiffness that’s settled there. Too much sitting and not enough exercise has taken its toll on me in such a short time. I check on Nico one last time before I turn and head upstairs.
A hot shower is exactly what I need to relieve the tension that’s been building up over the last few days. As I step inside, I squeeze the body wash into my palm, but my hands are shaking. I tell myself it’s just adrenaline. Just the kind of exhaustion that makes everything feel like too much.
But it’s not.
It’s Nico.
It’s everything.
I press my forehead against the tiles, eyes shut tight. I haven’t let myself cry—not once. Not when he collapsed. Not when the doctors said it could go either way. Not when I sat by his bed, pretending I was just tired, not terrified.
But here, alone, with nothing but the sound of water and my own heartbeat?
I break.
It’s not loud. It’s not dramatic. Just a quiet, unraveling. Tears mixing with the water, slipping down my face like they’ve been waiting for my permission.
I didn’t mean to care this much.
I didn’t mean to fall for him.
