I glare at her. She smirks. Nico laughs, then winces. I move to steady him; he bats my hand away like I’m fussing.
"I’m alive, Steph," he murmurs. "You don’t have to hover."
I hover anyway. Until darkness takes over, and it's time for the nurses to change shifts. Oksana steps out to intimidate a vending machine. I sit beside Nico and study the shadows under his eyes, the hollowness carved out by years he didn’t deserve.
"You should sleep," he says.
"So should you."
"You look worse."
"Shut up."
He smiles. It almost reaches his eyes. "You always were bad at being the older brother."
I rub my jaw. "I thought you were dead."
"I know."
A beat. Heavy.
"I grieved you," I whisper, surprising both of us. "Every day for three years."
"Steph—"
"I thought I wasn’t enough to save you."
He closes his eyes. "You weren’t meant to."
His lashes flicker, and I can tell he’s trying to pull himself together. He fails spectacularly, which is how I know he’s telling the truth. He takes a steadying breath. "Silvestre didn’t treat me badly," he says suddenly, as if offering a bone to a starving dog. "Not at first. I wasn’t allowed to leave the estate, but… inside, I had almost everything. Gym, shooting range, swim lanes, a private chef. Access to online shopping. They gave me enough to feel… human."
My stomach twists.Enough, but never freedom.Enough to keep him sane. Enough to pretend he wasn’t a hostage.
He continues, but his voice is darkening, "Aurelio even brought in hookers sometimes. Thought it wouldkeep my spirits up." His expression sharpens. "I never touched them. But the message was clear: play along, and life stays comfortable. Make noise, and things change."
I drag a hand over my mouth. "Jesus, Nico."
"Yeah." He shrugs. "But that attention worked both ways. While they were busy pretending I wasn’t a prisoner, I used it." His eyes light with the fire I remember frombefore Venezuela stole him. "I learned the house. The staff. The blind spots. Their routines. I slipped into offices, copied drives, found files—everything. Emails, transactions, recordings, and meeting logs. Stuff on Silvestre, on Aurelio, on Donna Margarita. Stuff on the betrayal. All of it."
I straighten. "Where is it?"
Nico grimaces like he’s remembering something vital and ugly. "Mexico City."
Oksana appears in the doorway, back pressed to the frame, eyes narrowing slightly as she listens.
Nico continues, but the way his eyes stray to Oksana is almost as if… he's worried she'd call him out on a lie. I bury that thought as soon as it comes up. If I start to distrust my brother, I'm opening myself up to dangerous territory, especially after my father's betrayal. "When I escaped, I took the drive with me. Worst chase of my life getting out of that province. I nearly died five times before I made it to the capital. I had a few hours before they found me again. I put the drive into a safe deposit box under a shit-tier alias that even Silvestre wouldn’t bother to trace. Then I called Gustave. Told him to come get me."
I go still. So does Oksana.
"And he sent men," Nico adds. "Just… not his."
Oksana inhales sharply. Nico keeps going. ""I should have told you about the file yesterday. It has everythingyou need to bring down Margarita, Silvestre, and maybe Edoardo too, depending on how much he knew." He winces. "Shit. I should've told you when I first woke up."
"It’s okay, Oksana told me about it, I should have asked," I say automatically, though we all know it isn’t. My voice steadies. "We’ve been working on this, too. Me. Enrico, Marcello, Toni, and the new capo that took the Giordano’s seat, Raffael DeSantis." I wince at the mention of the last name, but I suppose for better or worse, Raf is with us. "Valverde’s name keeps showing up where it shouldn’t. Edoardo’s money keeps moving where it can’t. This file, it could tie everything together."
Nico nods, and urgency snaps through his exhaustion. "Then you need to go get it. The box is at Banco Federal. Branch on Paseo de la Reforma. Safe deposit number 3032."
Oksana looks at me. "Road trip."
