Page 60 of Vega

“You need to eat,” he said. “You’re sick because you haven’t eaten. You can hate me with food in your stomach.”

“I’d rather die.”

The words made his eyes harden, but the hand holding the cloth became more careful against my skin.

“No.”

I frowned. “No?”

“You don’t get to kill yourself just to fight me.”

“It’s my body.”

“And I’m trying to keep it alive.”

“Why? So the real killer can do it himself?"

His gaze locked onto mine. For one strange second, he looked stunned by the question. Something shifted behind his eyes. His lips moved beneath the mask as if an answer had reached his mouth before he decided whether he should say it.

Then he looked away.

He reached for the sandwich on the tray, removed one half from the plate, and tore off a small piece. “Open your mouth.”

I stared at him. “You cannot be serious.”

“Eat.”

“No.”

He sat farther back on the bed and slid one arm behind my shoulders.

I tried to push him away, but my limbs felt useless. He pulled me upright against his chest without effort.

“Let me go.”

“Eat first.”

“I said no.”

He brought the piece of sandwich toward my mouth. I turned my head, and his fingers pressed gently against my jaw. “Stop fighting.”

I opened my mouth to curse him, and he pushed the food inside.

My eyes widened as he covered my mouth, forcing me to chew or suffocate.

Then he released my jaw and waited. I considered spitting it into his lap, until I tasted it, and my empty stomach cramped so painfully that I had to close my eyes.

“Chew,” he ordered.

I did, hating him through every bite.

He held the water to my lips afterward. I refused at first, but he waited without lowering it.

Eventually, I drank. Then he tore off another piece. This time, I only turned my head once before giving up.

He fed me slowly, one bite followed by a sip of water. There was nothing hurried or rough about it. His hand remained steady beneath my shoulder, supporting more of my weight whenever my body weakened.

The fight gradually left my body. He wiped a crumb from the corner of my mouth with his thumb. The touch was soft enough to make my breath catch.