Chapter 7 The Fever Breaks
1155 Words
——Raf’s POV
Raf had seen a lot of things in his life.
Gunfights. Betrayals. Men bleeding out in alleyways, bodies turning cold before they ever had the chance to fight back.
But this?
Watching her burn up from the inside, shivering despite the unbearable heat radiating from her skin?
This was worse.
Teri mumbled something in her sleep, her body shifting restlessly, fingers weakly curling into the dirt.
Raf moved before he could think, brushing her damp hair back from her face, his jaw tight.
Too hot.
Her forehead was still too damn hot.
Too much time had passed.
They should have been found.
His men weren’t slow. They weren’t incompetent.
Unless—
Unless someone was keeping them from finding him.
His teeth clenched. Later. That was a problem for later.
Right now, she was his problem.
Teri shifted again, whimpering softly, and his stomach clenched.
He hated that sound.
Hated how small it made her seem.
“Shh, bella,” he murmured, barely aware of the words leaving his mouth. “You’re safe.”
She wasn’t awake.
Not really.
Her eyes barely fluttered behind her lids, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps.
She was fighting.
But she was losing.
His fists clenched.
He had no business feeling like this. No business caring this much.
He was Raffael Esposito.
Mafia don. Power broker. Ruthless.
He didn’t do weakness.
Didn’t let emotions cloud his judgment.
Didn’t let people matter.
Because the second they did?
They became leverage.
And Teri?
If anyone found out she meant something—anything—to him?
She’d be dead before she even realized she was a target.
Raf exhaled sharply, shifting closer, his hands bracing on either side of her.
“Come on, Teri,” he muttered under his breath. “You’re stronger than this.”
She didn’t respond.
Just trembled.
His jaw locked.
She had to pull through.
She had to.
Because if she didn’t—
Something in him would break.
And that?
That was unacceptable.
——-Teri’s POV
Teri drifted between consciousness and something else.
A fever dream, maybe.
Or just reality, slipping through her fingers.
She heard waves. Fire crackling.
And him.
His voice. Low, gritted, muttered in Italian.
She wanted to tell him she was fine.
That she wasn’t dying.
But she couldn’t move.
Couldn’t think straight.
The pain in her ribs had turned into something dull and burning, seeping into her veins, poisoning her from the inside.
No.
Not poison.
Infection.
She had known.
Had felt the heat coiling beneath her skin, the sharp, unnatural ache twisting deeper with every breath.
And she had hidden it.
Because if she had told him—
He would have panicked.
And Raf didn’t do panic.
Not outwardly. Not visibly.
But she knew him now, didn’t she?
Knew what it meant when his jaw locked, when his hands curled into fists, when his gaze turned sharp and lethal.
He would have torn the jungle apart with his bare hands if it meant fixing her.
And there was nothing to fix.
Not really.
She would get through this.
She had survived worse.
…Right?
Teri shifted slightly, reaching for something solid.
Something real.
Her fingers brushed warm skin.
And then—his hand was there.
Catching hers. Holding it.
Big. Calloused. Strong.
Keeping her here.
Teri exhaled, relief washing over her for reasons she didn’t understand.
Maybe it was the fever.
Or the exhaustion.
Or maybe, it was just him.
Her grip tightened.
And she didn’t let go.
Didn’t want to.
Somewhere, in the haze, she thought she heard him exhale.
Like he was relieved.
Like maybe—**just maybe—**he hadn’t wanted her to let go either.
Teri didn’t know how much time had passed when she finally opened her eyes.
Seconds. Hours. Maybe an entire lifetime.
But when she did—
He was there.
Sitting right beside her, legs bent, arms braced on his knees.
Watching.
Tired. Silent.
The fire was still burning, casting flickering shadows across his sharp jaw, his dark, salt-dried hair.
And his eyes—
God, his eyes.
Green and unreadable.
She swallowed, her throat dry.
“Morning, stalker,” she rasped.
Raf’s lips twitched.
But he didn’t smile.
Didn’t say anything at all for a long moment.
Then—
“You scared the s**t out of me.”
Her breath hitched.
Not because of the words.
But because of how he said them.
Low. Raw. Like he hadn’t meant to say them at all.
Like maybe… she really had scared him.
Teri wet her lips, watching him carefully.
“So…” she murmured, forcing herself to sound light, teasing. “Does this mean you care about me, Raffael?”
Something flickered in his eyes.
Something hot and conflicted and dangerous.
But before he could respond—
Before she could even process the weight of her own words—
He exhaled sharply, leaned forward, and pressed his forehead against hers.
His skin was warm.
Not feverish. Not burning.
Just steady. Strong.
A quiet, silent reassurance.
Teri sucked in a breath, her body still too weak to move, too exhausted to do anything but feel.
And God, she felt everything.
The heat of him.
The way his fingers curled into fists against the dirt, like he was holding himself back.
The way his breath ghosted against her cheek when he finally—**finally—**spoke.
“Don’t do that again.”
Her pulse skipped.
“Do what?” she whispered.
He lifted his head just enough to meet her gaze, green eyes dark and unreadable.
“Almost die.”
A slow, quiet shiver worked its way down her spine.
She didn’t know how to respond to that.
Didn’t know what to do with the weight of those words, the weight of him.
So, she did the only thing she could.
She swallowed, licked her lips, and—**because she was her—**managed to smirk.
“Well,” she murmured, voice still scratchy but full of mischief, “maybe you should’ve been a little easier to drag through the ocean.”
Raf blinked.
Then, suddenly—unexpectedly—he laughed.
A real one.
Low. Rough. A little exasperated.
And maybe—a little relieved.
Teri grinned, pleased with herself.
But she also didn’t miss the way he shook his head, muttering something in Italian, something she didn’t understand but wanted to.
Didn’t miss the way his hand hovered near hers, like he was considering taking it again.
Didn’t miss the way his eyes flickered down to her lips—just once—before he stood, exhaling sharply.
“Rest, bella,” he murmured. “Before I decide to kill you myself.”
Teri chuckled, letting her eyes slip shut again.
“Wouldn’t be the worst way to go,” she muttered sleepily.
She thought she heard him pause.
Maybe.
But by the time she blinked her eyes open again—
He was gone.
- Writer
