Page 51 of The Silent War
Neither moved.
“Fine,” I sighed. “Then I’ll feed you. And if you don’t let me. I won’t take another bite.”
Bastion leaned in first, eyes steady on mine as he bit from my hand.
I turned to Luca, held the other piece up.
He caught my wrist gently, the same way he used to in the Academy when he stole my pizza. I remembered. And I was sure he did too.
I sat back against the pillows, pulse loud in my ears, then it should be.
Bastion picked the fork back up. Twirled pasta. Held it out to me. I leaned forward, eating off the fork.
Bastion kept the fork steady until I swallowed, then set it down. Only after I finished.
“Slow, baby,” Bastion murmured.
Luca’s hand came to my shoulder, guiding me back against the pillows like I was too fragile to hold myself. I indulged them, only because they looked so devastated.
“Come on, angel. You need to sleep.”
I didn’t argue. I was already fighting the medication too stay awake.
Luca adjusted the blanket with careful precision, tucking it close around me. His fingers brushed my uninjured wrist, only to rest on my pulse. He didn’t move after that—just stayed there, stroking slow.
Bastion’s hand rested near my thigh on the other side, solid and grounding.
I fought down how this stirred feelings that should be dead. Instead of spiralling and pushing them away. I closed my eyes.
The last thing I felt was both of them—one on each side, holding me like they weren’t ever going to let go.
Chapter Nineteen
LUCA
Hospitals made me want to burn things down.
Too many hands. Too many strangers touching what wasn’t theirs.
I didn’t trust them. Not one nurse. Not one doctor. I supervised every time they gave her medication—watched the nurse uncap the vial, watched them press it into her IV. If they so much as blinked wrong, I corrected them. Emilia didn’t know that. She thought the staff was professional. Careful. She didn’t know the only reason I let them near her was because I was standing over them.
Now I wasn’t in the room.
Alexander was.
And that made me want to kill someone.
My phone buzzed again. Fourth time in five minutes. I didn’t even check the name before answering.
“Numbers?” I snapped.
The voice rattled off percentages. Import schedules. Syndicate crews dragging their feet.
“Fix it,” I said, cutting them off. Then ended the call.
Another buzz. This time from Black Vault security. A deal was running late.
“Handle it,” I told them. “Quiet.”
