Page 77 of Cage the Storm
“He’s alive, Luna. We’re getting him out.”
The shackles clatter loose. He rolls off the board, collapsing to his knees. For a heartbeat, he stays there, trembling, his back a tapestry of lash marks. Then he rises.
Nico growls, a feral, gut-wrenching sound.
“Mateo, get her the fuck out of here, now.” Blood slides down his chest, his legs, pooling at his bare feet. His left arm hangs limp, fingers mangled.
And when Massimo tries to help him, he shoves him away, of course he does. He refuses to lean on anyone, not even when he can barely stand, because losing control is worse than breaking. Worse than dying. He’d rather collapse than admit he needs saving.
“Nico!”
“I said go.” He staggers forward, using the wall for balance. “I’m right behind you.”
He’s lying. I see it in the way his pupils dilate, shock leaching the color from his face. But pride stands in his way.
Massimo clears the hallway, firing two-handed. “Stairs! Now!”
Nico sways, but when Mateo tries reaching for him, he jerks back. “Don’t.” His glare could kill. “I’m fine.”
He’s delusional but alive.
We stumble into the corridor. Nico leans into the wall, each step a burden, but he doesn’t fall. Doesn’t stop.
I want to scream. To kiss him. To shake him.
Until a bullet ricochets near my head. Mateo slams me against the wall, his body shielding mine. Plaster rains down as he presses closer, his heartbeat galloping against my cheek.
Then, Nico’s voice, raw and wrecked. “Give me a goddamn gun.”
Mateo reaches over his shoulder and shoves the weapon into Nico’s waiting grip.
And now he’s unarmed.
My pulse spikes. No.
I claw at Mateo’s vest. “Nico has the gun, but you still need to fight. I’m fine.”
Before Mateo can answer, Nico growls through gritted teeth. “We need to get the hell out of here.”
When Mateo moves, my knees threaten to give. Nico’s arm wraps around me and he presses me against the wall. His heartbeat thrums against my cheek, too fast, too shallow.
I choke on a breath as my hands slide through the blood, warm and slick across his skin. He’s alive. We almost died. I press closer, his grip tightening like he’s afraid I’ll disappear. Like letting go isn’t an option.
The gunfire hasn’t stopped. We’re not safe. But we exist only in each other's hold for this breath: this sliver of time.
“We need to move, Boss,” Mateo warns as he reaches down to grab a gun strapped to his ankle.
“Wait… for Massimo.”
“We don’t have?—”
Nico glares at me. “Trust me.”
I don’t. Not when his blood slicks my palms. Not when his legs tremble. But I don’t argue because his pride is the last bridge between him and oblivion.
Mateo roars from ahead. “Clear! Go!”
Nico pushes me forward, his hand a brand between my shoulder blades. We stagger into the open, his body angled to take any bullet meant for me.
