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28

ESTELLA

Iwouldn’t have thought I could sleep, but the pain in my side and my utter exhaustion must have won out, because when I open my eyes again, it’s dark out. I push myself up to a sitting position, and my stomach growls loudly.

Beside me, Sebastian chuckles. “There’s a burger in that bag.” He gestures to a brown bag on the floor. “From a gas station, but I had to grab something quickly. Some mozzarella sticks, too. It’s not wagyu beef, but it’ll keep you going for a while longer.”

“I think it’s fun.” I reach for the bag, fishing out a mozzarella stick. “Maybe I like fried cheese more than wagyu beef. Have you ever considered that?”

Sebastian snorts. “No one likes that more, princess.”

“It’s a novelty,” I shrug. “I’ve had luxurious things and fancy food my whole life. I’ve never had a gas station burger before now.”

“Well, don’t get used to it.” He glances over at me. “I might not be able to keep you in fine mafia princess style when we’re settled down somewhere, but I can definitely do better than this.”

“A beach house in Costa Rica, maybe,” I say dreamily. “Fresh seafood every night. I could get used to that.”

“I could, too.” Sebastian reaches over, squeezing my hand, before turning off on a side road that leads into a forested area.

“Where are we going?” I ask curiously, munching on another mozzarella stick. I need to take more painkillers, I know that for sure. My side is screaming at me.

“I figured out where there’s a hunting cabin off the beaten path. This time of year, no one should really be using it. We can spend the night there.”

The road gets narrower, deeper into the trees, until I finally see the shape of a small log building. Sebastian parks behind it, helping me out as he grabs our things, ushering me quickly into the cabin. I sneeze immediately from the dust, and I can see that there’s no furniture—and apparently no electricity, since Sebastian is busily finding and lighting a hurricane lamp. But I see a bed and a fireplace and a small table with chairs, and right now that’s good enough for me.

Sebastian moves to the window, peering out cautiously. "I don't think they followed us this far. But we can't stay long. Tonight, and then we’ll get on the road again as soon as we’ve gotten some sleep."

It’s started to rain, the drops pelting against the roof and sides of the house with a soothing sound, and it’s chillier here. The interior of the cabin is musty and warm at first, but as I sink into one of the chairs at the table and finish the last of my gas station dinner, it rapidly starts to cool. Sebastian starts to build a low fire in the fireplace, and I watch him, trying not to wince every time I move. The pain in my side has gotten worse, not better, and I'm starting to worry that something might be wrong with the wound. But I don't want to say anything—not when we're finally somewhere relatively safe, not when Sebastian already looks so worried.

"You should take more painkillers," he says, glancing over at me from where he's crouched by the fireplace. The warm glow of the flames illuminates his face, casting shadows that make him look even more ruggedly handsome than usual. "I can see it in your face, princess. You're hurting."

"I'm fine," I lie, but I reach for the bottle of ibuprofen anyway. My hands are shaking slightly as I twist off the cap, and I hope Sebastian doesn't notice.

He does, of course. He notices everything. In two long strides, he's beside me, taking the bottle from my hands and shaking out three pills. "Here," he says, his voice gentler than I've ever heard it. "And don't tell me you're fine when you're not. We're past that now, aren't we?"

I take the pills with a sip of water, nodding. "We are. I'm sorry. It’s just...it hurts more than it did earlier."

Sebastian's brow furrows with concern. "Let me take a look at it."

I lift my shirt, wincing at the movement. Sebastian carefully peels back the gauze, and I hear his sharp intake of breath before I can see the wound for myself.

"That doesn't sound good," I say, trying to keep my voice light.

"It's a little red," he says, which I know is an understatement, both from how it feels and the tone of his voice. "Might be getting infected.”

I glance down, and I can see that his jaw is tight with worry. He gets up, going to fetch the first aid kit, and applies fresh antiseptic and a new bandage after cleaning it carefully. His touch is so gentle, so at odds with the deadly precision I'd witnessed earlier when he was shooting at Vito's men. It’s one of the things I love about him, I realize, as I watch him. That he can be both fierce and tender, brutal and loving, all at once.

I should tell him that,I think dizzily.When I’m not so tired. When it doesn’t hurt so much.

Sebastian stands up, putting the first aid kit back together, and when he looks back at me, a fresh wave of worry crosses his expression. “Estella?—”

He comes back over to me, pressing his hand against my forehead, sucking in a breath as he does. “I thought you were just warm around the wound from the potential infection. But you’re running a fever.” He frowns, touching my cheeks and throat. “How long have you been feeling like this?"

“Just for a little while,” I admit. A wave of dizziness washes over me suddenly, and I close my eyes, trying to shake it off. "Maybe a little earlier. I thought it was just from... you know." I attempt a smile, but it feels weak even to me.

Sebastian frowns, the crease between his brows deepening. “Shit. This is worse than I thought.” He glances over toward the bed. “I’m going to make sure the bedding is clean. And then you need to lay down.Shit,” he curses again. “You need antibiotics. But there’s no way to get any. We can’t risk a hospital.”

Fear ripples through me. I know I’m sick, and with the acknowledgment of it, all the symptoms that I’ve been trying to fight come rushing in—my oversensitive skin, the ache in my bones, the exhaustion that’s pressing down on me like a heavy hand. “Am I going to be okay?” I ask weakly, and Sebastian curses again.