Chapter 79 The cage 2
Kane’s POV
I’d been heading to meet a contact three blocks from the financial district when I spotted her. With her bright purple hair she was actually difficult to miss.
I slowed my pace, when I realized it was Melissa’s friend from the gala… I found her pretty interesting with her sharp tongue and fearless eyes.
I hesitated for a moment, then canceled my meeting with a quick text. Curiosity got the better of me, I suppose. I kept my distance as I followed her.
She wandered the streets with no clear destination, her steps were aimless and unsteady. She entered a hotel, came out empty-handed looking devastated. Now she stood outside, bent over with her hands on her knees like she couldn’t breathe.
Something was obviously wrong.I approached slowly and tapped her shoulder.
She spun around so fast she nearly fell. Her eyes went wide…recognition flickering across her face.
“You,” she whispered. “From the gala.”“Kane Rivers.” I offered my hand.
She took it, and I pulled her upright. Her hand was ice-cold, and she was trembling.
“Why do you look so lost?” I kept my voice gentle. “Why are you outside at this time of night?”
“I don’t know where to go.” Her voice cracked. “I can’t…I can’t go home. I can’t…”
She couldn’t stop shivering.I stepped closer, frowning.
“Aria?”
Her eyes rolled back and her knees buckled.
I caught her before she hit the pavement, my arms going around her to take her weight. She was lighter than I expected, too light actually.
“Aria,” I said more urgently, giving her a small shake.
No response. Her head lolled against my shoulder.
I pressed the back of my hand to her forehead and swore under my breath.
She was burning up. She had a fever.I looked around quickly at the now empty street, with no taxis in sight. My car was two blocks away.
I shifted my grip, getting one arm under her knees and the other around her back, and lifted her completely. Her head fell against my chest, her body limp and radiating heat.
I walked fast toward my car, keeping her close to shield her from the wind. Well, trying anyway.
By the time I reached it, she was shivering violently. I managed to get the passenger door open one-handed and settled her into the seat, buckling her in carefully.
Her eyes fluttered. “Cold,” she mumbled. “So cold.”
I shrugged out of my jacket and draped it over her, tucking it around her shoulders. It wasn’t much, but it was something.
“I’m taking you to get help,” I said, starting the engine.
Her eyes flew open, suddenly wide and panicked. “No.” Her hand shot out, gripping my arm with surprising strength for someone so sick. “No hospital. Please…no hospital.”
Tears welled up in her eyes, spilling over onto her flushed cheeks.
I hesitated, then nodded. “Okay. No hospital. I’ll take you to my place, alright?”
She slumped back against the seat, relief washing over her face even as the tears kept falling.
Then I got in and drove. Fast.
…………
My apartment was across town. I made it in twelve minutes, ignoring speed limits and red lights. Not my proudest moment, but necessary.
I carried her inside and straight to my bedroom. By now, her hoodie was completely soaked with sweat. Her hair was plastered to her forehead and neck. She was still shaking, teeth chattering, mumbling incoherently.
I laid her on my bed and she immediately curled into a ball.
“Aria, I need to get you out of these wet clothes,” I said quietly. “You’ll get worse if you stay in them.”
I went to my dresser and pulled out a clean t-shirt. One of the plain black ones.
Back at the bed, I helped her sit up. She was barely conscious, swaying like she might topple over any second.
I pulled the soaked hoodie over her head, keeping my movements quick. My eyes stayed fixed on her face…on her closed eyes, her parted lips as she struggled to breathe.
I pulled my t-shirt over her head, guiding her arms through the sleeves one at a time. It hung on her like a dress, falling past her thighs.
“Pants,” I said, more to myself than to her. “Your jeans are soaked too.”
She mumbled something that might have been a protest but had no strength behind it.
I unbuttoned her jeans, my gaze lifting to the wall behind her…to the abstract painting I’d never really looked at before. Dark blues and grays. I focused on counting the brushstrokes as I slid the denim down her legs in one smooth motion.
I pulled the blankets over her immediately and went to get supplies.
Cool water. Washcloths. Fever medication from the bathroom cabinet…. I kept them for emergencies.
When I returned, she was still shaking, her eyes squeezed shut, her face twisted with discomfort.
I sat on the edge of the bed and pressed a cool cloth to her forehead.
She flinched but didn’t pull away.
“I’m going to call someone, we need…,” I said quietly. “A doctor.”
“No.” Her eyes opened wide, terrified. Panicked, really. “Please. Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave, don’t go.”
The raw fear in her voice made me stop.
“Okay,” I said, covering her hand with mine. “I’ll stay. I’m not going anywhere, alright?”
I stayed beside her for the next hour, maybe longer. Changed the cool clothes when they warmed. Coaxed fever medication between her lips with a bit of water. Checked her temperature with my hand against her forehead, her neck, monitoring the heat.
When she got agitated, thrashing in the blankets and whimpering, I murmured quiet reassurances. Italian, mostly…words my mother used to say when I was sick as a child. “Va tutto bene. Stai al sicuro. Riposa.” It meant “Everything is fine. Stay safe. Rest.”
I doubted Aria understood them, but the tone seemed to help. Her thrashing would slow, her breathing would even out a little.
Gradually, her temperature dropped. The violent shaking eased. Her breathing evened out more consistently.
She fell into real sleep, her hand still loosely holding my wrist.
I carefully extracted myself and stood, stretching out the stiffness in my back.
In sleep, she looked younger somehow. Vulnerable. Her purple hair spread across my white pillow like spilled ink. Her face was finally peaceful.
I pulled my phone from my pocket and opened my messages.
To: Gavin
Melissa’s and her friend are safe.
I hit send and pocketed the phone without waiting for a response.
Then I walked to the corner of the room and grabbed the heavy leather armchair. I dragged it to the side of the bed. The legs scraped softly against the hardwood.
I sat down and leaned back, crossing my arms over my chest.
And watched her.
A strand of purple hair had fallen across her face. My hand twitched with the urge to brush it back, but I kept my arms crossed. I wonder what was going on with her. The urge to find out was overwhelming.