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I absorb this, trying to reconcile the sister I remember with the woman Alex describes. “She always protected me, you know. Even when we were kids. I was supposed to be the one protecting her this time. And look how well that turned out for both of us," I gesture at our cell with my good hand. “Some protector I turned out to be.”

“Don't underestimate your importance to her. The only reason she's playing along with your grandfather's game is you.”

I snort, wincing as the movement jars my ribs. “And you.”

“Primarily you,” he corrects. "I'm just...additional motivation.”

There's something in his tone I can't quite place—not quite bitterness, not quite resignation. Before I can question it further, the electronic lock on our door beeps. We both tense, instinctively shifting into more defensive positions despite our injuries. Four guards enter, batons extended at their sides.

“I hope your sister enjoys the show, Rossi. I know we will.”

VESPER

The truth doesn't announceitself with fanfare. It slips in quietly, like a thief in the night, stealing your breath before you even realize what's been taken.

I stare at the tablet screen, my finger hovering over the notification. A link. Unassuming. Anonymous. The promised daily proof of life that makes me both desperate to click and terrified of what I'll see.

“Vesper?” Talon's voice pulls me back from the edge of panic. “What is it?”

“It's him.” My voice sounds foreign to my own ears. “The daily check-in.”

The guys abandon Oscar’s computer, where they’ve been hunched for the past three hours, poring over the encrypted files from Alex’s flash drive. They approach me with synchronized caution, like hunters circling wounded prey. Their concern would be touching if it didn’t feel so suffocating.

“Do you want privacy?” Oz asks, assessing my mental state, measuring my capacity for what might appear on that screen.

I shake my head. “No. Stay.” The word comes out more desperate than I intended. "Please."

Z settles beside me on the couch, close enough that I can feel his warmth. Always so careful with me now, as if I might shatter at the slightest contact. Maybe I would.

“Whatever we see, we face it together.“

I press the link before I can reconsider, my heart pounding against my ribs as the screen fills with static. When it clears, my breath stutters. The image sharpens into a sterile room—stark and clinical in its emptiness—save for two figures slumped against opposite walls.

“Luca.” I lean closer to the screen. My brother's head is down, but I'd know him anywhere. His chest rises and falls with shallow breaths, the only reassurance he's still alive.

And across from him, Alex. My stomach lurches at the sight of him. Whatever they've done to him in the hours since I saw him at the mansion has left its mark. His face is a mottled canvas of fresh bruises blooming over the old ones, one eye swollen completely shut. Blood trickles from his split lip, dripping onto his torn shirt. He's barely conscious, leaning sideways against the wall.

“Jesus Christ,” Talon mutters behind me.

Four guards circle them like vultures, batons slapping rhythmically against their palms. The sound echoes through the tablet's speakers, a metronome of threatened violence.

“Smile for your sister, Rossi,” one of the guards barks, prodding Luca with his baton. “She’s watching you.”

Luca's head jerks up, immediately finding the camera. Recognition flashes across his face, followed quickly by defiance.

“Vesper,” he mouths, no sound accompanying the shape of my name on his lips.

One of the guards moves toward Alex. “Your turn, Rafner. Say hello to your girlfriend.”

Alex's single good eye narrows with sheer determination, locking onto the camera. His cracked and bleeding lips part, struggling to shape my name, but instead, a tortured, guttural gasp escapes as the guard viciously yanks his hair, twisting it with cruel force that clumps rip from his scalp.

“Stop it!” I cry out uselessly, knowing they can't hear me.

“Easy,” Z mutters beside me, his hand hovering near mine but not touching. “They're doing this to provoke you."

The guard releases Alex with a contemptuous shove that sends him slumping against the wall again. Another guard approaches Luca, crouching to his level with mock familiarity.

Luca lunges forward suddenly, spitting directly in the guard's face. The reaction is immediate and brutal, a backhand that snaps my brother's head to the side, followed by a vicious kick to his ribs that leaves him doubled over, gasping.