She opened it, and it revealed decades of surveillance reports on the Salvini family.
“This dates back to shortly after Vince was born,” she said, scanning the earliest reports. “Grey told me they were monitoring all of us even before I was born,” she said and looked at Matt for the first time. Her voice grew quieter. “But he focused on me specifically after I turned eight.”
Matt growled.
“He told me he was in love with my mother before she married our father,” Shorty said, her voice distant. “He said the Paraskia ordered him to stand down when Alfredo pursued her.”
She fell silent after that but started extracting data.
“Since Nonno was one of the founding fathers of the Paraskia Syndicate, this means he was the one ordering this surveillance,” Matt murmured.
We all looked at him.
“Was this his way to keep tabs on us?” he said and looked at Shorty who shrugged. “Maybe, or maybe he really didn’t trust his own son, and it was his way to keep us safe?”
Matt nodded and hummed, and we focused back on the screen just as something unusual flashed across the screen—a message appearing briefly then disappearing again.
>
Isabella froze. “Did you see that?”
I nodded, then looked at Nina who’d already checked the system’s security logs.
“What does it mean?” Shorty asked.
“A trap?” Matt suggested, hand moving subtly toward Shorty’s shoulder.
“Or an ally,” Nina countered.
I recalled the message, trying to make sense of it. The Paraskia operated on strict hierarchical protocols. Unauthorized assistance would be nearly impossible without high-level approval.
“This changes things,” I said slowly, the implications sinking in. “The Paraskia Council must have already opened an investigation into Grey.”
“And they know what we’re doing,” Shorty murmured.
And they knew what we were doing. All of this information wasn’t on Grey’s private computer; it was in the Paraskia database.
Did that mean all of his operations had been sanctioned? Or did it mean they were investigating him?
Everything was possible.
“Containment team ETA 3 hours. What does that mean?” Shorty asked.
“That means, let’s get the data and get our asses off this island ASAP,” I decided, the weight of the implications settling like lead in my stomach.
Shorty looked at me sharply. “You’re trusting an anonymous message? That’s not like you.”
I stared at her. “I’m not trusting anyone,” I replied. “Especially not with my family’s life, or yours.”
The acknowledgment of my concern for her created a brief moment of connection despite the tension between us. Something softened in her expression before she returned to the task at hand.
“I need five more minutes to finish,” she said, already copying the most damning evidence to a secure drive.
The room fell silent except for the sound of her typing. Matt remained vigilant at the door while Nina monitored external communications. Anton kept his eyes on the security feeds, alert for any sign of trouble.
I watched Shorty work, struck again by the duality of her nature. The woman who had surrendered so completely in my arms last night was now all sharp edges and clinical precision. Both versions were equally real, equally compelling. Both versions made her the woman I wanted.
“Done,” she announced finally, removing the secure drive. “We have what we came for.”
