Chapter 98: The Shared Fever

It started with a dull ache in the back of my throat. By the time the sun went down, my bones felt like they were made of lead. I tried to sit up to reach for the glass of water on my nightstand, but the room tilted violently to the left. I gave up and sank back into the pillows, shivering despite the heavy blankets.

The door pushed open quietly. I didn't have to look to know who it was. The twins always seemed to know when something was wrong.

"You didn't come down for dinner," Ivan said. He walked over to the bed and pressed the back of his hand against my forehead. He hissed through his teeth. "You’re burning up, Leo."

"I’m just tired," I muttered, though my voice sounded like sandpaper.

"You’re more than tired," Dmitri said, appearing on the other side of the bed. He was already holding a digital thermometer. "Open up."

I obeyed, too weak to argue. The device beeped a few seconds later.

"One hundred and three," Dmitri announced, his face tightening with worry. "I’ll call Dr. Aris. Ivan, get some cool water and a cloth."

"I don't need a doctor," I said, trying to push myself up. "It’s just a cold. I'll sleep it off."

Ivan pushed me back down with one hand. It wasn't a hard push, but it was firm. "You aren't going anywhere. You can barely keep your eyes open. Just breathe, Leo. We’ve got you."

For the next hour, the room was a blur of activity. Ivan returned with a bowl of ice water and began dabbing my face and neck with a damp cloth. The cold was a shock to my skin, making me gasp.

"Easy," Ivan whispered. "I know it’s cold, but we have to get this temperature down."

Dmitri was on the phone in the corner, his voice low and demanding. I could hear him telling the doctor to hurry. When he hung up, he came back to the bedside and took over for Ivan, wiped my hands and wrists.

"Did I do something?" I asked, my mind starting to wander as the fever climbed. "Is this because I was in the library?"

Dmitri stopped moving. He looked at Ivan, then back at me. "What are you talking about, Leo? You’re sick. It happens. It has nothing to do with the library."

"You were so angry," I whispered.

"I wasn't angry," Ivan said, sitting on the edge of the mattress. He took the cloth from Dmitri and started on my forehead again. "I was worried. I’m always worried about you. Seeing you like this... it makes it worse."

I closed my eyes. The guilt started to seep in, thicker than the fever. These men had spent the last several hours hovering over me. They looked exhausted. Ivan’s expensive shirt was wrinkled, and Dmitri hadn't even taken off his shoes. If they were the monsters I thought they were, why did they look so broken at the sight of me having a fever?

The doctor arrived shortly after. He checked my lungs, looked down my throat, and gave me an injection that made me feel heavy and sleepy.

"It’s a viral infection," Dr. Aris told the twins. "Rest, fluids, and round-the-clock monitoring. If the fever doesn't break by morning, call me again."

"We’ll stay with him," Ivan said.

"Both of you?" the doctor asked.

"Both of us," Dmitri confirmed.

Once the doctor left, the house grew silent. The only sound was the hum of the air conditioning and the soft splash of water as Ivan rinsed the cloth. I drifted in and out of sleep. Every time I opened my eyes, one of them was there.

At one point, I woke up to find Dmitri sitting in the chair next to the bed, reading a book by the light of a small lamp. Ivan was asleep on the sofa across the room, still in his clothes.

"Dmitri?" I croaked.

He was at my side in a second. "I'm here. Do you need water?"

He lifted my head and held the straw to my lips. I took a few sips. It was the best thing I’d ever tasted.

"Go to bed," I told him. "You have work tomorrow."

"Work can wait," Dmitri said. He set the glass down and brushed a thumb across my cheek. "You’re feeling a little cooler. That’s good."

"Why are you doing this?" I asked. The question felt heavy in the air.

Dmitri looked at me for a long time. "Because you’re our brother, Leo. I know we’ve had a hard few days. I know you’re frustrated with the security and the rules. But none of that matters when you’re hurting. We lost our parents. We almost lost everything. We aren't losing you."

His voice was so sincere it hurt. I wanted to believe him. I wanted to tell him about the things I’d seen on the screen, about my doubts and my plans to run. But looking at the dark circles under his eyes, I couldn't do it.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

"For what?"

"For being difficult."

Dmitri smiled, a real, tired smile. "You’re a Volkov. We’re all difficult. It’s in the blood. Now, try to sleep. Ivan will be up in a few hours to take the next shift."

I fell back into a deep sleep, and this time, the dreams weren't about fires or locked doors. When I woke up again, the sun was peeking through the curtains. My fever had broken, leaving me damp with sweat but clear-headed.

Ivan was the one sitting by me now. He was watching the sunrise through the window. When he heard me move, he turned around immediately.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

"Better," I said. "A lot better."

He reached out and felt my forehead. "The fever is gone. Thank God." He leaned back and sighed, the tension finally leaving his shoulders. "You scared us, Leo."

"I didn't mean to."

"I know," Ivan said. He looked at me with an intensity that made me look away. "I know I’m hard on you. I know I push too much. But it’s only because I can't imagine this house without you in it. When you were talking in your sleep last night... you sounded so scared."

"What did I say?" I asked, my heart skipping a beat.

"Nothing that made sense," Ivan said. "Just names. Dates. You kept asking why the lights were out."

I stayed quiet. I remembered the dream now. I had been back in the hallway of my old house, smelling the smoke.

"Leo," Ivan said, his voice dropping to a low, serious tone. "I know you’re looking for answers. And I know you think we’re hiding things from you. But everything we do, we do to keep those memories from coming back. We want you to have a life where you don't have to look back."

"But I have to look back to know who I am," I said.

Ivan stood up and walked to the window, closing the curtains slightly to block the glare. "You are a Volkov. That is who you are. The past is just ashes. There’s nothing for you there."

He came back and sat on the edge of the bed, taking my hand in his. His grip was warm and solid. "Let us take care of the past. You just focus on getting strong again. Okay?"

I looked at our joined hands. For a moment, the digital walls and the blocked websites didn't seem like a prison. They felt like a shield. I felt a wave of guilt so strong it made my stomach turn. How could I plot against people who stayed up all night just to make sure I was breathing?

"Okay," I said softly.

Ivan leaned over and kissed my forehead. "Sleep a little more. I'll have Arthur bring up some broth when you wake up."

As he walked out of the room, I lay there staring at the ceiling. I was still trapped, and the information was still hidden. But as I closed my eyes, I found myself wondering if maybe, just maybe, I was the one who was wrong. Maybe the truth didn't matter as much as th

e people who were willing to sit in the dark with me.