CHAPTER 18
The house was too quiet.
Luca stood outside Mia's room, hand resting on the doorknob, he'd checked on her hours ago after the nightmare, sat with her until her breathing steadied.
She'd clung to him, barely saying a word, her face hidden in his shirt, That part was normal.
What worried him now was the silence that followed.
He pushed the door open gently.
Mia was still curled under the blanket, but her back was to the door. Her breathing was uneven not the peaceful rhythm of sleep.
He stepped closer, eyes narrowing. There was a slight shake to her shoulders, and when he reached out to touch her forehead, the heat confirmed what he feared.
"Damn it," he muttered under his breath. "she's got a fever."
Luca's jaw tensed. He'd been so focused on calming her down, he hadn't noticed how warm she felt. Now her skin was hot, her body still trembling lightly from earlier.
"princess," he said quietly.
She shifted, finally glancing back. Her eyes were glassy, her face pale except for the flush on her cheeks. She tried to sit up but gave up halfway, laying her head back on the pillow.
"I'm fine," she mumbled, her voice dry.
"You're not," he replied. "You've got a fever."
She gave a tiny, shaky nod. "I didn't mean to... I just got tired..."
"I know," he said gently. "You cried yourself sick, baby."
She didn't argue. That alone was telling. Mia always tried to pretend she was okay, even when she clearly wasn't. The fact that she didn't deny it now meant she was worse off than she let on.
"I'll get you something," he said, already heading for the door.
"Luca?"
Her voice was quiet, almost childlike.
He looked over his shoulder.
"Are you staying?"
He nodded once. "Yes princess."
Then he left to grab the medicine and a cool cloth, already planning to cancel the rest of his day, he had also told Grayson to take a few days since he wanted to be the one taking care of her.
Luca returned minutes later, a bowl of cool water in one hand, a cloth in the other, and a dose of fever medicine in his coat pocket.
He moved without sound, shutting the door softly behind him.
Mia hadn't shifted since he left, her gaze unfocused, lids half-lowered as she lay bundled under the covers.
He set everything down, crouched at her bedside, and reached forward to brush her hair from her face. Damp strands clung to her forehead. Her skin burned beneath his fingertips.
"Princess," he said lowly.
She blinked, barely able to lift her eyes to him.
"Sit up for a second. Just enough to take this."
She obeyed, slow and weak, letting him help her sit. He held the medicine to her lips, his other hand steady at her back. She swallowed with a soft grimace, then leaned into him without hesitation, her small frame curling instinctively toward his chest.
Luca didn't move away, instead, he let her stay like that.
She didn't speak, didn't cry, but her breathing was ragged, and every now and then she gave a little cough that tugged at something deep in his chest.
He dipped the cloth in water and wrung it out, carefully placing it on her forehead. She flinched from the cold at first, then melted under the relief.
"You always get sick after you cry too hard," he muttered.
She gave the faintest hum, like she wanted to say something but didn't have the strength.
Luca sat down beside her on the bed and leaned back against the headboard, bringing her with him, letting her rest against his side. He pulled the blanket around her tighter, his arm firm around her shoulders.
"I'm not leaving," he said, quietly but firmly.
"I know," she whispered, voice thin, almost broken.
Her head lay tucked against his chest, and for a while, neither of them moved. The clock ticked softly in the background, and outside, the city went on as always but here in this quiet room, Luca Vitello sat guarding his sister like she was the last fragile thing in the world worth protecting.
And to him, she was.
The room was quiet except for the soft rhythm of Luca's breathing and the tick of the clock on the wall. Mia's fever had pulled her in and out of restless sleep, her body still aching, her chest tight. But she was no longer alone.
She lay curled in Luca's arms, her head resting against his chest, his warmth surrounding her like a shield. He hadn't moved for hours not when she whimpered in her sleep, not when her fingers unconsciously clutched his shirt like a lifeline.
His presence was a comfort she couldn't explain. She hadn't asked him to stay, she didn't need to.
Luca's hand moved slowly through her hair, not to wake her, but to soothe. Mia stirred slightly, her voice small.
"Are you still here?" she asked, her throat dry and raspy.
"I'm here," he said, almost under his breath. "Go back to sleep, princess."
Mia didn't answer. Her body was too weak, her mind too cloudy but her fingers relaxed against his shirt and the tension in her shoulders eased.
She didn't need words to tell him how much she needed him, he already knew.
And as she drifted off again, her brother stayed right there still holding her, still watching over her, like he always had.