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Oz sits up suddenly. “Wait. Vesper, you're the key.”

“Yeah, we got that far, but what does it mean?”

“No,” Oz shakes his head emphatically, wincing slightly at the movement. “Alex said he found files on Mario’s computer. Blackmail material on the other families. Leverage we can use for their help. He has it on a flash drive. He extracted it before we left.”

“So?” I ask, impatience bleeding into my voice.

Oz stands now. “Vesper is not just the metaphorical key. She’s the literal key. You can unlock it.”

“Biometric encryption,” I breathe, the pieces falling into place. “Alex would have secured the data with the highest level of protection.”

“Oz,” Talon nods eagerly. “Not just any biometric lock, one keyed specifically to you. Your fingerprint, retinal scan, maybe even DNA.”

Vesper stares at him. “But where would he keep something like that? I searched his room. I didn’t find anything.”

“Not in his room," Talon interjects. “He would have kept it somewhere more secure. Somewhere only you would think to look.”

I watch as something shifts in Vesper's expression, the first real animation I've seen since she walked through that door. Her brow furrows in concentration.

“The basement,” she says suddenly. Vesper is already moving, heading toward the hidden stairwell that leads to the apartment's lower level. We follow her.

I haven't set foot down here since before Newport, since before we lost him. The air is cooler here, carrying the faint metallic scent of blood that never quite washes away, no matter how thoroughly he cleaned. I feel the familiar tightening in my chest as we descend the stairs, not fear exactly, but a visceral respect for what happens in this space.

Vesper moves with newfound purpose, her footsteps echoing against the concrete as she crosses to the center of the room. The overhead lights flicker on automatically, motion sensors responding to our presence. Everything is meticulously organized, with chains bolted to support beams. A butcher's playground, designed for maximum efficiency.

“What exactly are we looking for?” I ask.

“I don't know yet. But Alex wouldn't have told me I was the key if he didn't think I could figure it out.” I watch her as she moves through the basement, her fingers trailing along surfaces, cataloging every detail. “Come on, Alex. Give me some sort of sign. What am I looking for?”

I watch Vesper as she methodically sweeps the basement, her movements becoming more fluid as purpose replaces the hollow emptiness that has consumed her for days. This is the Vesper I know, focused, determined, refusing to accept defeat even when the odds are stacked impossibly against her.

“Think, Vesper,” Oz encourages, keeping a respectful distance as she works. “If Alex encrypted something specifically for you, it would be somewhere meaningful. Somewhere that connects to you both.”

“This is pointless. I have no idea where to look.”

“Think about the last time you were down here. Before they left for Martha’s Vineyard. Did he say or give you something?”

“He said a lot of things. Mostly about him being expendable. Nothing about how to find the key.”

I watch as Vesper's frustration builds. “Tell me where to fucking look, Alex!” she screams into the void.

Her voice echoes off the concrete walls, the raw emotion in it hanging in the air like smoke. Then silence falls, heavy and oppressive, broken only by her ragged breathing.

I move toward her, instinct overriding caution, but Oz catches my arm with a subtle shake of his head. Let her work through this.

Vesper stands motionless in the center of the room.

“Why did you think about the basement?” Talon interrupts the silence. “Why this space, Vesper?”

“This is where he told me about his demons,” she sighs, her voice heavy. “Where he revealed and demonstrated what was buried beneath the surface.” She moves to the metal exam table in the center of the room. “He killed Natasha right here, after forcing her to admit what she’d done.” She pauses, glancing around once more. “Over there,” she says, nodding toward Alex’s weapon cabinet, “he confessed to me the night before his trip to Martha’s Vineyard that he could never be with mebecause he feared he would destroy me. He believed his life was expendable.”

"Expendable," I echo, the word catching in my mind like a burr. Alex never did anything without purpose—every word, every action calculated for maximum effect. "What exactly did he say about being expendable?"

"He said he wasn't like the rest of you. That he was the expendable one." Her voice grows stronger as she continues, "He told me if it came down to a choice between him or Talon coming back, he'd make sure it was Talon."

"He knew," Talon breathes, realization dawning across his features. "He fucking knew something might go wrong. He was preparing you."

Vesper moves toward the weapons cabinet with renewed purpose, her fingers tracing the metal edge of the door. "This is where we were standing when he said it." She pulls the door open.