"Lorenzo, she should know what her cousin?—"
"I said enough." The command in my tone makes even Nico step back. "Sophia, take your plate. Go to your room."
She looks at me for a long moment.
"Now," I add, softer but no less firm.
Sophia turns from Nico's gun, walks past the table with her untouched eggs, and heads for the stairs. Without taking the plate, naturally. Because following simple instructions would be too much to ask.
The kitchen door swings shut behind her, leaving me alone with my brother and his barely contained fury.
"You're protecting her." Nico holsters his weapon with sharp, angry movements. "After what Luna did to you, you're protecting another Torrino."
"I'm gathering intelligence."
"You're being played." He runs a hand through his dark hair, messing its usually perfect style. "Again. By the same fucking family."
"You think I don't know the risks?"
"I think you have a blind spot when it comes to women who need saving." His words land like punches. "Luna needed savingfrom her family too, remember? She fed you the same story—trapped, desperate, nowhere else to turn."
My jaw clenches hard enough to crack teeth. "This is different."
"How?" Nico spreads his arms wide. "Because she's younger? More innocent-looking?"
"Because Francesco's actually selling her to the Russians. That's confirmed."
"Pietro needs to know," Nico says finally.
"Not yet."
"Lorenzo—"
"Forty-eight hours." I meet his stare. "Give me forty-eight hours to verify her intelligence. If she's lying, I'll handle her myself."
"Twenty-four hours. That's all you get."
"Nico—"
"Twenty-four hours, Lorenzo. Then I tell Pietro everything. A Torrino woman in our building, eating our food, while we're at war with her family? He needs to know."
I want to argue, but Nico's already made more concessions than I expected. Twenty-four hours to verify Sophia's intelligence, to determine if she's weapon or victim.
"I'm searching for information myself about that Torrino girl." Nico pulls out his phone, fingers already flying across the screen. "Real information. Not whatever sob story she's selling."
"You won't find much. Francesco keeps his family business locked down."
"I'll find enough." He pockets the phone, heads for the door.
The kitchen door swings shut behind him, leaving me alone with cold eggs and the weight of another impossible decision.
I know why Nico's so adamant about telling Pietro. My older brother made a similar mistake just months ago with Nora O'Sullivan. The daughter of our Irish rivals showed up at hisdoor, running from her own family. Pietro, against every instinct that should have told him otherwise, took her in.
The family went ballistic. Nico ran background checks that came back blood-red with warnings.
But Pietro was right about Nora.
She never betrayed us. Never fed information back to her father. Never tried to destroy us from within like we all expected. Instead, she chose Pietro over her own blood, stood with us against her family when the war came to our doorstep. Now she's practically family herself, though the irony of that transformation isn't lost on any of us.
