Burning inside

Book:The Mafia's Mistress Published:2024-12-16

Damian sat on the edge of the bed, his breathing heavy and uneven. His shirt stuck to his skin, damp with sweat. His head felt foggy, as if he were in a dream that he couldn’t wake up from.
His body burned, a fire spreading through his veins, making it impossible to sit still. He stood up abruptly, pacing the room, but every step felt heavier, like his legs were made of lead.
“What the hell is happening to me?” he muttered, dragging a hand through his damp hair.
The heat was unbearable. It wasn’t just physical-it was inside him, clawing at his sanity. He tried to focus, to push the strange sensation away, but it only grew stronger.
He stumbled to the nightstand and grabbed his phone with trembling hands. His fingers fumbled as he scrolled through the contacts, his vision blurry. Finally, he found the name he was looking for: Raphael.
Damian pressed the call button and held the phone to his ear, his heart pounding loudly in his chest.
The line rang a few times before Raphael’s familiar voice came through, light and teasing as always. “Big brother, what’s the matter? Missing me already?”
Damian ignored the joke, his voice low and strained. “Raphael, I need you to handle the rest of the event.”
There was a pause on the other end. “What? Why?” Raphael asked, his tone shifting to concern. “What’s going on?”
Damian leaned against the wall, closing his eyes as he tried to steady his breathing. “I’m fine,” he said, though his voice sounded anything but convincing. “Just… feeling a bit off.”
“Off?” Raphael repeated, his concern deepening. “What do you mean? Are you sick?”
“No,” Damian snapped, though it was weaker than usual. “It’s nothing serious. I just need to rest.”
Raphael wasn’t convinced. “Damian, you don’t sound fine. If something’s wrong, tell me.”
“I said I’m fine,” Damian insisted, though his hand gripped the phone tightly, his knuckles turning white. “Just take care of the guests. Keep them entertained. I’m not coming back out tonight.”
There was silence on the other end for a moment before Raphael sighed. “All right,” he said reluctantly. “I’ll take care of it. But if you’re still feeling like this tomorrow, you’d better get checked out.”
Damian forced a small, strained laugh. “Worried about me, little brother?”
“Of course,” Raphael said lightly, though his tone held genuine concern. “I’d hate to inherit all your responsibilities if something happened to you.”
Damian’s lips twitched into a faint smile despite himself. “Just handle the guests,” he said quietly. “I trust you.”
“You got it,” Raphael said. “But don’t push yourself, Damian. Whatever’s going on, take care of it.”
Damian ended the call and dropped the phone onto the bed. He pressed the heels of his hands against his temples, trying to block out the pounding in his head.
The room felt smaller, the walls closing in on him. His body trembled as the heat surged again, making him feel like he was on fire.
“Damn it,” he growled, stumbling forward.
His legs gave out, and he collapsed to the floor, the cool marble a slight relief against his burning skin. He rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling as his chest heaved.
“Why… why do I feel like this?” he muttered, his voice shaking.
The thought of calling a doctor crossed his mind, but he quickly dismissed it. This wasn’t something he could explain-not without raising questions he wasn’t ready to answer.
He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. The pain helped ground him, but it wasn’t enough to stop the storm raging inside his body.
“Focus,” he told himself, his voice hoarse. “Just focus.”
But his thoughts were scattered, slipping through his fingers like sand. Every time he tried to concentrate, the heat overwhelmed him again, making his vision blur.
Damian rolled onto his side, his hands gripping the edge of the bed as he tried to pull himself up. His muscles felt weak, as if they were refusing to obey him.
He let out a frustrated growl, collapsing back onto the floor. The cold marble against his cheek was the only thing keeping him grounded.
“This isn’t normal,” he muttered, his voice barely audible. “Something… something’s wrong.”
His mind flickered back to the wine he had drunk earlier. It had tasted fine, but now he wasn’t so sure.
“Was it…?” he began, but the thought was too hazy to finish.
The heat grew stronger, and Damian found himself clawing at his shirt, desperate for relief. He managed to unbutton it, letting the fabric fall open, but it didn’t help.
His breathing was shallow, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he fought to stay conscious. The fire inside him felt unbearable, as if it were consuming him from the inside out.
He slammed a fist against the floor, the sharp pain cutting through the haze for a brief moment.
“Think,” he growled to himself. “What happened? What did I drink?”
His mind wandered back to the maid who had brought him the wine. He remembered her nervousness, the way she had avoided his gaze.
“Lina,” he whispered, his eyes narrowing.
It had to be her. The drink, the timing-it all made sense now.
“Damn her,” he spat, his voice filled with anger.
But there was no energy left to act. His body refused to move, the fire draining him of his strength. He lay there, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling as the heat raged on.
Minutes felt like hours as Damian fought to stay awake. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, but one name kept rising above the chaos: Aurora.
He closed his eyes, his jaw tightening as he thought of her. She was the one thing keeping him anchored, the only reason he hadn’t completely given in to the haze.
“Aurora,” he whispered again, his voice soft and filled with longing. “I won’t let this break me. Not when you need me.”
With a deep, shuddering breath, Damian forced himself to roll onto his stomach. His hands pressed against the floor, trembling as he tried to push himself up.
The effort was agonizing, every muscle in his body screaming in protest. But Damian’s determination burned hotter than the fire inside him. Slowly, he managed to rise to his knees, his breaths coming in short gasps.
“Not yet,” he muttered to himself, his voice hoarse. “I’m not done yet.”
He staggered to his feet, gripping the edge of the bed for support. His legs shook beneath him, but he refused to fall again.
“Lina,” he growled, his eyes dark with fury. “You’ll pay for this.”
With unsteady steps, Damian made his way to the window, the cool night air brushing against his overheated skin. He leaned against the frame, his chest heaving as he tried to steady himself.