Too much time had passed. He’d been lying in bed, staring blankly at the TV on the wall as it showed an onslaught of infomercials. He was ready to lose it. He couldn’t stand being cooped up in this room, trapped in bed with nothing to do but obsess over whether Yadriel was all right. His body felt stiff and heavy. His stomach twisted with worry. The wait was killing him.
The only thing keeping him from storming down the hallway and demanding answers was whatever sedative they’d given him. There was a thick fog in his head, dulling his senses. Familiar voices came from the hallway and he turned to the door, chasing the sound.
A second later, the door swung open.
“Jules?”
Rio. Relief crashed through Julian. His pulse thudded in his temples as he tried to sit up.
“Christ, Jules,” said an irritated voice. A strong hand pushed his shoulder, holding him down. Julian tried to fight it, but he was far too weak.
“Stop,” the voice ordered, giving Julian a small shake that sent his head spinning.
Rio’s tense face swam into focus above him. His jaw was clenched, worry sparking in his sharp eyes.
“Rio?” he croaked groggily, latching on to his brother’s arm with feeble hands.
“You’re hooked up to a bunch of shit. If you keep fighting, you’re going to pop your stitches,” Rio told him sternly. “So quit it.”
Julian’s head rolled to the side and he blinked hard, trying to focus.
His friends stood huddled by his bed. Omar’s eyes were bloodshot and he looked pissed. Rocky was pale, and there were tears freely running from Flaca’s puffy eyes. Luca openly gaped like he was staring at a ghost.
“Are you guys okay?” Julian asked the first question that popped into his head.
“We’re supposed to ask you that, dumbass,” Omar growled.
“The cops said you got kidnapped by a cult,” Luca piped in.
“It wasn’t a cult,” Rocky corrected, looking annoyed. “It was just one guy.”
“They found you and three other people in a murder dungeon,” Luca continued, like he hadn’t heard her.
“He was about to kill all four of you,” Flaca said through tears, her fingers pressed to her lips.
“But Maritza and Yadriel found you,” Luca added.
Julian sucked in a breath. “Yadriel?” When he tried to sit up, he was hit was a violent ache in his chest, eliciting a groan.
“Julian,” Rio warned.
“Is Yadriel okay?” he demanded, trying to push his brother’s arm away.
“He’s okay,” Luca told him. “I asked one of his relatives. There’s a whole bunch of them in the waiting room.”
“Where is he?” Julian wasn’t going to take anyone’s word for it. The only way he’d believe Yadriel was okay was if he saw him with his own eyes. He wasn’t safe until Julian could speak to him and touch him, until he knew for certain. “I gotta see him—” Julian tried to get up again, even though every muscle in his body screamed at him to stop.
Rio pushed him back down with ease.
Julian glowered.
“You got stabbed, Jules,” Rio said.
“Yadriel’s okay,” Flaca tried to reassure him. “He’s still recovering.”
It did little to make him feel better, especially when Rio added stubbornly, “You’re not going anywhere.”
“The hell I’m not!” Julian growled, trying to get up yet again.
Luca threw himself across Julian’s lap, and a scuffle ensued, if you could really call it that. It was mostly Julian cussing out Rio and his friends to let him go and them not letting him up.
TWENTY-FIVE
When Yadriel started to wake up, he tried to force his eyes open, but they slid right back shut. The strange scent of antiseptic mixed with flowers filled his nose.
“Yadriel?”
He tried again. Everything was blurry and way too bright.
“I’ll get a doctor,” Diego’s voice said. There was squeaking of shoes on linoleum. The opening and closing of a door.
“Yadriel? Are you awake?”
With effort, Yadriel turned and saw his dad. He was a haggard mess, but he let out a heavy sigh of relief.
“Ay, Dios mío!” Lita practically wailed at his side. Yadriel flinched as she babbled incoherently, thanking every god and saint she could think of, her hand pressed to her breast.
“Jesus Christ.”
Yadriel’s eyes swung to his left, where Maritza hovered over him.
He tried to sit up.
“Here, let me help,” Maritza scolded him, carefully pulling him into a seated position.
A wave of nausea crashed over him. Yadriel groaned as bile rose in his throat. Someone pressed a cool, damp cloth to the back of his neck. “This will help,” his dad