Page 142 of The Cost of Silence

I can hear the guilt coursing through my brother’s voice. “Domenico used her to get you away. What about Matteo?”

“He was called away by a sighting of Domenico at Club Ruin. Fuck, Nico, I’m so sorry.”

“No, he set us up, and like idiots we walked right into it,” I say, sick understanding slotting into place. “Of course he did. He knows our weaknesses.”

Adi swears under his breath, the sound closer to a wound than a word. “This is my fault. I left her. I should never have…”

“No,” I say sharply. “This is his fault. His and whoever opened the door. We’re not doing this to ourselves. Not now.”

Silence. Then a breath. “Matteo’s on his way to you,” he says. “We thought if Rossi woke up…”

“He did,” I say. “And he confirmed what we already knew. Domenico’s in bed with Orlov and he’s making moves in our name. He left a note on Rossi.”

“Of course he did,” Adi says tightly. “Grand gestures. He always loved those.”

“If he’d had five more minutes,” I say, “Rossi would have told me exactly what he knew. Instead, he coded on the table. They’re trying to get him back now.”

“You think this is connected?” Adi asks.

“I think Domenico doesn’t do anything that isn’t connected,” I answer. “He shows his face here, taunts Rossi, then goes for you through Marta, fakes a sighting at a club we know to get Matteo running, then takes Isabella. He’s pushing every button.”

“So we push back,” Adi says quietly. “Come home, Nico.”

I end the call with a promise I don’t say out loud, that I’ll bring our uncle’s head back with me if I can.

Matteo strides down the corridor a minute later, face grim. “Rossi?” he asks.

“Back in surgery,” I say. “He saw Domenico. Confirmed what Oleg told us.” I hand him the card. “He left this.”

He reads it, lips twisting. “Dramatic prick.”

“Adi says Domenico hit the penthouse,” I say. “Isabella’s gone.”

For a second, Matteo’s expression shutters completely, like someone turned off the lights behind his eyes. “Gone how?” he says slowly.

“Men down, cameras cut, no forced entry,” I say. “Marta called, asked to leave because her mother was sick.”

“Her mother’s heart,” he finishes, eyes narrowing. “She told me the same thing a few weeks back. Do you think she’s in on it?”

I shrug. “Who knows, but we’ll find out.”

“Motherfucker, I sent flowers. Son of a bitch.”

“He used her more than likely or blackmailed her,” I say. “Pinned it all on an emergency. Adi bolted, the guards were hit, the door opened, and our uncle walked in like he was coming home for dinner.”

Matteo’s jaw ticks. “I bet Adi’s tearing himself apart right now.”

“I know he is,” I say. The sound of my brother’s voice when he saidshe’s goneis going to sit in my chest for a long time. “He shouldn’t, but he will.”

“And you?” Matteo asks. “How much are you going to take on?”

“All of it,” I say. “Every choice. Every blind spot. Every time I told myself we had more time before this escalated. Every time I thought we could negotiate with the ghost of the old house instead of burning it down.”

He studies me. “And what are you going to do with that weight, big brother?”

“Use it,” I say. “We’re done dancing around this. No more waiting. No more letting him pick the time and place.”

“Good,” he says simply. “Then let’s go home.”