35. Luna
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
LUNA
I’m fine. That’s what I tell myself, over and over again.
But I’m not fine.
Nico was shot. He could have died. And no matter how much I try to rationalize it and keep my emotions locked down, it doesn’t change the way the floor feels uneven beneath me.
He’s resting now, the medical team satisfied that he’ll make it through, but I can’t shake the image of him bleeding out in that cellar, fighting to stay alive. I’ve always thought of him as invincible. And now, for the first time, I realize he’s only human.
I should leave, should step away, and give myself space. But my feet won’t move.
Because no matter how much I tell myself I shouldn’t care or feel like this, I do.
And that terrifies me because falling for Nico was not part of the plan.
For a moment, I consider bringing him upstairs, where I can watch over him. The idea is ridiculous, and I finally convince myself he’s right where he needs to be.
Mateo pulls me aside the moment I step out of the infirmary. “We need to increase security,” he says. “If Carlo knows Nico’s been hit, he won’t stop there.”
“I’ve already got extra men stationed, but you’re right. It’s not enough.” I say, trying to ignore the burden of responsibility I now face.
Mateo studies me for a beat, then says, “I want eyes on every entrance. The estate, the cellar, and even the side streets leading up to the gate. No one gets close without us knowing.”
“If you think he’ll come here knowing Nico’s vulnerable, then yes.”
Mateo’s expression darkens. “I’ll take care of it.”
I don’t relax, not entirely. But as he steps away, barking orders into his phone, I let out a slow breath.
Nico might be resting, but the war never ends.
I walk back inside, and Mateo follows soon after, like he doesn’t want Nico out of his sight. Nico’s stable, but that doesn’t mean he’s out of the woods. I glance at Mateo, who watches everything like a hawk.
“I want a cot in here,” I state. “I’m staying.” He lifts a brow but doesn’t argue. Just walks away to make it happen.
I tell myself it’s the right call. If something happens, if Carlo tries to finish what he started, I need to be here. Close enough to react, to deal with whatever comes next. After Mateo grabs a cot, he sets it down next to Nico.
“I’ll be outside this door if you need me, Luna.” I know Mateo blames himself for Nico being shot, I can see it in his eyes. He shouldn’t, though, because Nico knows the risks, and it wouldn’t have changed the outcome.
“Thank you, Mateo. For everything.” I have a gut feeling Nico’s alive because Mateo did everything to get him here as quickly as possible.
I settle onto the cot, pulling a blanket over my legs. My gaze finds Nico, and his breathing is slow and steady. For once, he looks at peace.
I turn onto my side, listening to the quiet chatter of the women. I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, but tonight I’ll be right by his side.
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.